#is that a weird enough sleeping habit for you guys?

[fyrefrostanimus]

Fuck it, you guys got me thinking about Hero so here's a Hero post.

Another arospec headcanon (that I mentioned before). So my interpretation of Hero is demiromantic and demisexual. He doesn't feel love at first sight, and there's probably only a couple Vessels he had anything close to a crush on. Among those "canon routes" only HEA is a possibility, and in that route I don't think he'd really have enough time to register than he's got a crush before she's gone. But the one I'm sticking with him having somewhat of a crush on is the Heart. He was there with TLQ, who also loves her. Hero has time to understand he's romantically attracted to Shifty's Heart, which just makes it a bit heartbreaking for him to make the decision to stay behind and let Shifty and TLQ leave on their own. Idk what romantic heartbreak is like, but if it's like losing contact with a close friend, then man that would suck hard. Pair that with suddenly regaining the memories of previous routes all at once and it makes it all worse (stomach sickness from Instinct!Den, guilt from Abandonment!Thorn, HEA, loss of control from Wraith, and that again from Tower/Apotheosis).

Voice mimicry. Crows can technically mimic human speech, but since Hero is already speaking English (or any language you set the game to, it's English for me), there has to be a different way to deal with this. So instead I settled on the idea of him basically mimicking the other Voices in his sleep-talking. Never when he's awake, just sleeping. On occasion he ends up pulling off The Narrator's voice and ends up making everyone else panic. Hero can have a slightly unsettling habit that he's not even aware of. As a treat.

Weird ass nest compared to everyone else. My design for Hero is meant to be much more human than the other Voices. The others all have some form of quadrupedal movement, Hero couldn't pull it off without hurting his back. So he's overall just less bird in some ways. As such, Hero's "nest" is more like an actual bed. Everyone else thinks it's strange, but he at least seems cozy there.

[dippindaz]

Relationship HCs

Decided I wanted to go back to my roots and write some horror characters :) I hope you all enjoy <3

Warnings: Controlling/manipulative behaviors, toxic dynamics, mentions of death and violence (not major character, mentions of stalking,

Characters Included: Brahms, Thomas Hewitt, Danny "Jed" Olsen, Michael Myers, Billy Loomis, Stu Marcher.

Brahms Heelshire

Extremely clingy and possessive. Brahms doesn’t just want you around—he needs you. You’re his entire world, and he expects to be yours too.

Jealous of any attention you give others, even innocuous stuff like a friendly conversation with the delivery boy. He’ll sulk, break something, or go quiet behind the walls until you “apologize.”

Strict routines and rules—he expects you to read to him, cook for him, and follow his schedule. But over time, you realize he also follows a version of your schedule. He memorizes everything about your habits.

Childlike tendencies, especially emotionally. He doesn’t always know how to express feelings beyond tantrums or intense stares, but he genuinely adores you in the only way he knows how.

Brahms is touch-starved. He clings in his sleep, always wants to hold hands or sit close, and gets visibly upset when you pull away—even if it’s just for a second.

Homebody couple life. He doesn’t want you to leave the estate—ever. If he has to let you go somewhere, expect him to be freaking out the entire time you're gone and either be extra clingy when you get back or extra closed-off.

Thomas Hewitt

Incredibly protective. Once he considers you his, you’re under constant protection. Anyone who even looks at you the wrong way… doesn’t look at anything again.

Thomas expresses affection through his actions. He’s nonverbal, but he’ll bring you things he thinks you’ll like—bones, odd trinkets, handmade gifts—and looks to you for approval afterward.

He likes to be close, leans into you for comfort, and has a calming presence despite everything. Being held by him feels safe in a strange, primal way.

Listen, Thomas is really a big baby. If you cry or raise your voice, he panics and tries to fix it. Expect him to bring you comfort items, mimic your expressions to show empathy, or even get Mama to help. He hates when you're upset, whether with him or not.

Your life is domestic, in it's own weird way. You both settle into a routine that’s grotesque on the outside but oddly comforting once you adjust. He likes when you hum while you work.

Loyal to death. Once you’re his, he’ll never let go. Even the thought of losing you is enough to send him into a spiral of rage or grief.

Danny “Jed” Olsen

Flirty, chaotic, and intense. Danny is the kind of guy who flirts like it's a game but is dead serious about you underneath the teasing.

Danny loves making you squirm. He’ll joke about stalking you (and probably did before you got together. Let's be real, he probably still does), sends you cryptic texts from across the room, or whisper twisted things just to see your reaction.

Photos of you everywhere. Some are sweet, some are… definitely not. He documents your relationship obsessively—whether it’s a romantic moment or a vulnerable one.

He's got a dark sense of humor and hopefully you do too. He loves when you match his energy, but if you don’t, he’ll tone it down just enough to keep you from leaving—then push again when he’s feeling brave.

Hyper-focused on you. He watches your every move, knows your patterns, your tells, your fears. It’s equal parts seductive and terrifying how well he reads you.

Deep down, he hopes you’ll love not just the charming mask he puts on, but the messed-up parts too. If you do? You’ve got his loyalty for life—even if it’s a dangerous one.

Michael Myers

Utterly silent but always watching. You never really know where Michael is, but you always feel him—whether it’s a shadow behind the curtain or a shape across the street. He watches you constantly, but not always maliciously—sometimes just… fascinated.

Very protective. If anyone threatens you? They're gone. No warning. No trace. He doesn’t tolerate any danger near you—not even perceived danger.

Quality time is his love language (If you can even call it that). He doesn’t speak or do traditional affection, but he’ll leave you items (stolen or not), stand guard outside your house, or silently sit nearby when you're upset.

Emotionally unreadable—but not emotionless. Over time, you can tell when he’s calm, angry, or curious. It’s all in the tilt of his head, the speed of his breathing, the way he stands just a little closer.

Michael follows you like a shadow. Even when he’s not visible, he’s nearby. If you try to leave him, he will follow. He’s never going to let you go—but somehow, it feels more like devotion than captivity.

Physical comfort is rare but intense. When he finally touches you(outside of sexual touches)—gently brushing your hair back, letting his hand linger—it’s deliberate and heavy with meaning. He doesn't do anything halfway.

Billy Loomis

Hot-and-cold as fuck. One moment, he’s magnetic, whispering sweet nothings like you’re the only person in the world. The next? Cold, distant, suspicious. You’re always on your toes.

Emotionally manipulative, but not always on purpose. He knows how to make you feel guilty, even when you haven't done anything. Sometimes it's calculated. Sometimes it's just because he’s afraid you’ll leave.

Billy is secretive. He hides things constantly but loses his mind if you do. If you even look at someone else for too long, expect a quiet but tense confrontation later.

He craves your trust but doesn’t trust you. He wants you to love him unconditionally—but doesn't believe you actually could if you "knew everything." This makes him spiral, often.

He fantasizes about you being his ride-or-die, someone who won’t just accept the killer side of him, but maybe even join it. The idea of you being his ride-or-die is thrilling for him.

Weirdly romantic in the rare quiet moments. He’ll run his fingers through your hair, kiss your wrist, stare at you like he’s memorizing you. He means it. He just doesn’t know how to keep it.

Stu Macher

Clingy and codependent. Stu needs constant attention. He’s like a puppy crossed with a sociopath—needing affection one minute, giggling over murder the next.

Stu always has his hands on you, always exaggerating his emotions to get a reaction—whether that’s “fake dying” for kisses or pouting until you reassure him.

He will do literally anything to impress you. He’s impulsive and easily influenced, especially by Billy—but if you told him to ditch murder and just watch movies with you forever, he’d probably try.

Terrified of abandonment. He plays things off like a joke, but the thought of losing you breaks him. He’d cry, beg, or go completely unhinged trying to keep you.

Stu over-shares everything. He couldn't keep a secret from you even if he was trying. He’ll ramble about kills, about plans, about what he wants to do to people who “looked at you funny.” It’s weirdly honest—he has no filter with you.

Loves being called your boyfriend. Like, loves it. He’ll say it a dozen times a day and gets all smug if you say it in public. Being yours is his favorite identity.

[cruesuffix]

Where does alien mick sleep because wouldn’t he eat the pillows, blankets, and sheets

guys im guessing alien!mick is never beating the “i can’t ever be a civilized creature” allegations…but i promise you he can! i just can’t necessarily prove it. maybe we all just expect him to sleep exactly how the dirt!mick did in the beginning of the movie…which i can totally see happening. on a serious note, if he desperately needs something to survive, he won’t eat it. that includes beds, blankets, sheets, and pillows.

[rainrot4me]

Jeff the Killer General Headcannons

Summary: Basic, SFW, and NSFW head-cannons. My personal thoughts, feelings, and opinions about Jeff as a character.

TW: NSFW below the cut, minors dni! Above the cut is sfw!

Words: 2.6k

A/N: NSFW is reader with female anatomy.

Basic:

- Big isolation guy. He enjoys pestering people or hanging out, but when it comes to personal things like missions or killing sprees, he prefers to be alone. His head’s already loud enough that he doesn’t need to add to it when he’s trying to focus.

- Blunt. Like to the point it’s a drag to even talk to him sometimes. He doesn’t really give a shit about anyone or anything besides himself, so why would he need to hide what he actually wants to say?

- Dangerously short temper. It barely takes one nasty remark or even a hint that you have ill intent towards him before the killer is on your ass. Would rather beat the shit out of you than take the time to reconcile.

- A STARER. Has absolutely no remorse when just boring his eyes into someone, eyes wide and horrifying. He loves to watch every expression as he’s ending someone’s life, every bit of anger or fear, but especially the blank stare in their eyes afterward. You catch his glance all the time, and instead of looking away politely like a normal person would, he just smiles as he glares even harder.

- Loves story based video games that Ben shows him. Life is Strange, Night in the Woods, and What Remains of Edith Finch. Has to play them all in their entirety before he can do anything else, so he’ll be glued to the couch for days.

- Has a difficult time with names, so he comes up with nicknames or terms to make it easier. “Twitch” - Toby, “Sockets” - Jack, or “Glitch” - Ben. Don’t worry, he’ll give you one, too.

- A laugher. When he’s in pain, when he’s sad, when he’s happy, that man is laughing. Choked out dry heaving chuckles or tipsy short airheaded giggles, it doesn’t matter, he will be laughing.

- Terrible sleep paralysis and nightmares keep him up during the night, the most sleep this man will ever get is a little over 3 hours. It really doesn’t help his mood, either.

- The scars on his cheeks used to bleed and get infected so bad he could barely shut his mouth due to the swelling. He would numb it down with pain killers and anything he could find, but it wasn’t until Slender tried to make him into a proxy that they eventually sealed and scarred over, creating wide gashes (weird cryptid powers).

- Thinks about his brother every waking moment. He feels so much pent up regret and sadness concerning Liu, but refuses to search for him or even shed a tear. This sends him into mental breakdown episodes, and sadly, the only relief is just to create more carnage.

- Actually really hates violence unless he’s the one delivering it. Doesn’t like violent movies or music because they romanticize everything he hates about himself. Any media he enjoys is either really bland or really toned down, stuff that won’t trigger him.

- Cuts his own hair, and yes, he’s horrible at it.

- Messed up his appearance to make himself ‘beautiful’, but just ended up so disgusted and ashamed of himself in the long run. When his mental fog gets bad, he’ll just stand in front of the mirror and stare at himself, letting every negative thought wash over. Outside, he’ll brandish it like a weapon, something to get victims to submit. But on the inside, it’s just a nasty reminder.

- Showers only when it gets to the uncomfortable point. He doesn’t have the time or energy or wash himself every day, but when it gets to the point he feels the blood and grime subconsciously, he’ll get over it. Even if he does wash himself, half the time actually in the shower is just letting the water run over him and staring at the tile wall.

- Gets all of his money and random trinkets from victims. Proceeds to spend all that money almost immediately after on a pack of Blue Moons. No orange slice, either.

- Messy, disgusting room. Has no healthy habits of keeping him or his space tidy, so it’s always near disastrous.

- Even though the media and lots of outlets perceive him as this insane maniac killer, those were all big stories from his teenage years. Even though he doesn’t feel like he’s matured, he’s definitely found a happy medium away from spree after spree of slaughter. He still itches to take down a whole neighborhood, but he’s found his ways to cope.

- Very good at hand-to-hand combat. He wields a knife if things get a little rough, but prefers to use his hands to do the dirty work. Makes it feel more personal to him.

- Late-night kitchen demon. You’ll find him rummaging the fridge or making a bowl of cereal in the complete darkness, but he’ll swear up and down it wasn’t him.

- Annoying, painfully so. Hell wrack EJ’s ear off or pester Toby about little things, but he can’t help but get giddy when he sees he’s ticked them off just enough.

- Really agile. Had a thinner build, but muscle definition and tension really adds to the aesthetic. Really defined v-line and hips bones, as well as carved out shoulders and collarbones. Looks like a beefier skeleton, but hot.

- Lip piercings. Snake bites. They’re not healed and they’re not pretty, but he thinks they look badass.

- Scars and jagged pieces of flesh everywhere on his body. They’re either from mission aftermaths, rough targets, or his own doing, but they’re all gnarly and barely healed half of the time. They hurt terribly, but he’s constantly cracked out on painkillers that he doesn’t even care anymore.

- Enjoys the shoegaze music genre. Aldn, Wisp, Elita, Deftones, and surprisingly, The Cardigans and The Cranberries. They remind him of his childhood.

Dating Him/SFW:

- “Baby” “Babe” “Cunt”

- Big words of affirmation guy. He’ll act disgusted and shove you off, rolling his eyes about your sweet words- but in reality, he’s gushing so hard he can’t stand it. Reassurance makes him feel more loved than anything.

- The fastest ‘enemies or lovers’ troupe you’ll ever experience. It’ll only take one face-to-face argument before you both get too close and he’s pulling you in for a rough make out. He’s bad with emotions, what makes you think he wouldn't be bad at reading love/hate signals too.

- HATES to show any sign of weakness or adoration. If you’re laying with him or holding his hand, as soon as someone enters the room he’s shoving you off. It’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s a deep-rooted fear that someone will use you against him.

- If he’s spent the night in your bed, he will always be gone by the time you’ve woken up. Out of fear of vulnerability, he will only fall asleep after you and wake up before you, otherwise he just won’t stay with you at all.

- He’s like dealing with a little kid. Yes, he’s been through heaps of mental anguish and trauma, but he’s gone through all of that without a hand to hold. In some sad way, he sees something motherly and comforting in you which drives him to latch on and become dependent. It's weird, but so is he.

- Jealousy problems. Big time.

- “He touched you. So I cut his arm off. What is so hard to understand here?”

- Needs to be bossed around. He can and will rot in his bed all day unless you tell him to get up and do something.

- Absolutely melts when you kiss him unprovoked. When he doesn’t force you or tease you into one, but when you decide to kiss his face or hands on your own terms. It’s his favorite thing.

- In his manic brain, he wants something calm, someone who can settle him out. You offer him stability and a chance to unwind and that’s really all he needs.

- As a nervous response, he’ll intentionally push you away if he knows you like him. He holds a lot of regret, so he doesn’t want to drag you along with the rest of his baggage. Will say and do things he knows will hurt your feelings so you leave on your own.

- “And what made you think I’d want you? Because we kissed? Hah! How cute.” Meanwhile, he’s in his room pining himself to shreds.

- Watches you sleep constantly. Doesn’t matter where you are or how far, he will trek through your window or into your bed to watch you snore quietly against your pillow. He likes the vulnerability of it and acting as your ‘protector’, like you have no choice but to rely on him in this state.

- You are the last person Jeff wants to break down in front of, but when it eventually happens, and you’re there with open arms- the killer can barely breathe from how full his heart feels. The feeling of just being able to sob and bury into your shoulder while you rub his back is incomparable.

- Possessive AND protective to a fault. Wants everyone to know you’re his, but at the same time, really enjoys when you flaunt yourself so he can stare down the wandering eyes and really show them who they’d be messing with. Either way, eats it up when you feel good about yourself and safe in him.

- Nasty, terribly toxic relationship. You both bounce off of each other and are constantly arguing, but you both get over it because you’ve grown codependent. There’s nothing ‘casual’ about the two of you, you’re either fuck buddies or desperately clawing at each other for survival. Jeff is an obsessive guy, he either wants everything to do with you or he’ll hide away and tear himself apart over you.

- Jewelry is such a yes for him. If you’re wearing thick earrings or chunky necklaces that brighten your face, he eats it up. He’s such a sucker for silver.

- Does not ask for kisses, he takes them.

- “C’mon baby, I can’t help it. You’re just so fun to mess with.”

- Since he doesn’t sleep much, likes to lay on his back while your head rests on his chest/shoulder. He’ll tangle his fingers through your hair or brush your cheek with his thumb while he stares at you or the ceiling. Even when he has doubts about you loving him, your body always subconsciously shifts towards him while you’re snoozing, and it makes him feel just a little better.

- Fake punches/hits you when he’s bored. Will hold his hands up and box at your face but never making contact, just enough to have you side-eye him. He thinks it’s funny.

- Shoulder kisses.

Dating Him/NSFW:

- Can and will touch you inappropriately no matter the circumstances. His rough hands groping your ass or shoving between your thighs to give flirty little touches in front of everyone, his shit-eating grin when you get embarrassed.

- “Stop glaring, sweet cheeks. I know you want me.”

- Will fight to his dying day that he’s a top, but as soon as you even give him a glint of dominance or snap at him, he’s folding so fast. Dominant person, submissive lover.

- Killing machine on the field, pathetic ass bottom in bed. It takes forever to get to that point, but once he’s mentally checked out and half-drooling on the mattress, he’s so pliable and lightheaded he’ll take it with ease. You have to really work for it, but Jeff trusts you/wants it bad enough subconsciously that he’ll force himself to go into a subspace.

- All-time favorite position is laying you out on your back, one leg up on his shoulder while the other is being held down at your side. It really opens you up and gives the nastiest, most lewd noises that have him pussydrunk. Bonus points for reaching a hand in to choke you.

- “And to think you were beggin’ me to stop while your pussy is soaked. I mean, look at you, babe. You’re suckin’ me in somethin’ awful.”

- CHOKING. Either you or him, he gets off on it so bad. Choking you is so satisfying, he loves the resistance and struggle as you gasp for air, face flushed and eyes rolling with his fist around your throat. Meanwhile, if you’re choking him, his body nearly convulses from the pleasure. He loves the lightheadedness and pressure of it, hoarse chuckles as both of your hands grip around his neck and just squeeze. He thinks he could cum just from being strangled.

- “What’s wrong, baby? Lil’ too much? Ah- You’ll get over it, just open up f’me.”

- Hair pulling, strangling, biting, smacking—really anything that’ll cause pain.

- Standing side-by-side in the mirror, his body is littered with nasty cuts and scars while yours is littered with pretty bite marks and hickeys. He loves it.

- Eating you out is so tiring, but it’s all worth it to look up and see your heavy, glassed-over eyes beaming down at him, lips parted as you’re gasping.

- Hard, quick thrusts that have you gasping and yelping. His hips snap against yours rhythmically until you throw your head back, then he leans in close and shifts his knees closer to really speed up. He never has a set pace, but prefers always adjusting to whatever has you making the most noise.

- “C’mon… Louder- Hah- I’m not stoppin’ till you’re cryin’ for it.”

- A bitch fight every time you two get together. Bickering with the other about ‘who can last longer’ or ‘going until you beg for it’ and it irritates the shit out of both of you. Gets you both riled up that you’re more fighting than fucking, but by the end, you’re both dead exhausted and reduced to panting messed laid out on top of each other.

- Refuses to pull out. He can’t get you pregnant, Slender made sure of that (God help if this heathen was allowed to procreate), so it’s either in your cunt, ass, or mouth, nowhere else. Even if he’s jerking himself off, he’ll wait to cum until he can get to you and finish himself out.

- Stands over you and stares hard enough until you’re reduced to your knees, words never even leaving his lips before you’re unbuckling his belt and shifting his jeans down. He’s fought you enough, sometimes you like to just be good for him.

- Pulling him in by his belt >>>>>>>>>

- Eating you out or sucking you off so much that drool leaks from his scars, eyes so hazed and soft as he hums and moans against you.

- “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

- Fucked you with the handle of his knife because you read something about it in a book and wanted to see if it actually felt good. He was weirded out at first, but when he watched you jerking your hips and mumbling for him to fuck you, he’s never fucked his cock in faster while rubbing the blunt of the handle against your drooling clit. Same thing with running the blade against your skin. It just elicits some reaction out of you that he can’t understand, but it turns him on terribly.

- Has a big thing for cop x prisoner roleplay actually.

- “What? Officer, how am I supposed to finger you with these handcuffs, hm? I guess you’ll just have to let me go, yeah? Or do you not want it as bad as your pussy leads me to believe?”

- Really loves fingering you while he’s buried in your ass. Curling his fingers up to make you arch your back just a little more, having your head spinning from the overstimulation… yeah.

- A 2-3 round champion. He’ll never be able to just cum once and be satisfied, regardless if you’re ready to stop or not, he’s forcing his cock back into wherever it was or in a completely different hole and riding himself out to his next orgasm. If he’s not shaking and on the verge of passing out after sex, it wasn’t good enough for him.

- “Jeff, stop! We could get caught!” “Or you could just shut up and take your panties off. You’re soaked, there’s no point in fighting me when I’m already this hard… C’mon, baby, give me your hand or something…”

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[thesecretaryy]

┌─ ✦ NOT SO SLICK ABOUT THEIR SICK HABITS

MDNI, Yandare JJK men, mentions of stalking, panty stealing, hacking, age gap, jealousy, slight obsession, fem!reader.

Characters; Satoru Gojo, Choso Kamo, Toji Fushiguro.

SATORU GOJO — NERDJO

Satoru wasn’t a jealous person, not at all, right? He thought so until he realised he didn’t want any guy to hit on you. He met you in robotics class, apparently, you only took this class to get extra credit, while he was actually really into robotics. So it ended up with him helping you with everything, programming, building, and writing the report on how the whole work went. And while he did all this, spent so much time with you, He started developing a crush on you, a very big crush.

He didn’t even realise it before he saw one of the guys on the football team giving you his number. He was up almost the whole night thinking about it, until he realised he could literally just remove the football guys number from your phone. The next day, he stayed after school in the robotics classroom and waited until everyone had left, even the janitor. To hack into your phone through the school computer and delete every guys number from your phone.

It wasn’t long after he started doing it, that you caught him.

You had detention one day, and when you were finally on your way home, you saw him in the robotics classroom, sitting in front of a big computer and logging into your account. That’s when you realised that he was the one who had made all those numbers from your phone disappear.

In a way, you thought it was kind of cute. He was too pathetic to ask you out, but he could surely make it impossible for anyone else to do so, either.

CHOSO KAMO — THE PHOTOGRAPHER

Choso thought he was so sneaky. He always sat at three different places, right outside your campus, your favourite cafe, or outside your dorm. At first, Choso didn’t think of it as weird. Just him admiring his pretty best friend, you were just so beautiful. So all those photos he took of you were normal, well, he thought so until he realised that his camera was now only full of photos of you. Then he accepted this new slight obsession as the new “normal”.

Today he was sitting at his favourite spot, right outside your dorm. He was watching you pace around in your dorm, talking to someone on the phone. He saw as you put down your phone on a high surface, and then you started to undress. Choso's eyes widened, and his heart started pounding loudly, loud enough to tune out the noise of the late-night traffic. You lifted the hem of your shirt, slowly peeling it off your body and revealing your black lace bra. To his surprise, right after you had removed your shirt, you walked up to your window. He could see that you were looking for something, or someone, with the way your eyes searched the perimeter. He froze in place when you finally made eye contact. You looked at him for a long while before laughing. Just a minute later, he got a text. “I see you too.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO — THE NEIGHBOUR

You recently moved into a new apartment complex, you had just graduated and were ready for a new chapter in your life, and that new chapter was finally living alone. What you didn’t expect was that you would get a very loud neighbour. It wasn’t that he was loud, just the girls he’d bring over every day.

So one day, you couldn’t take it anymore, you walked the short way from your apartment to his. Knocking loudly on his door, and waiting a few long seconds for him to finally open the door. He just leaned against the doorway, with no shirt and grey sweatpants.

He looked at you confusedly, “Can I help you?” He asked in a low tone. Seemingly not recognizing you as his new neighbour, who moved in more than two weeks ago.

You realized his confusion about who you were and started with, “I just moved in a few weeks ago, and I can’t get any sleep because of your constant…night activities.”

���…Okay?”

“So I need you to ask them to be quieter or get some soundproofing done to your walls.”

He looked you up and down for a few seconds, silently, before answering. “Okay.”

“…Thanks”

Since your short conversation, the noise has completely stopped. It seemed as if he actually listened to you. As a thank you, you brought over beer and sometimes invited him over for dinner. The two of you started to have frequent neighbourly chats and hangouts. You’d learned his name, Toji, and his age, 29. The age gap between you two wasn’t that bad; you were almost twenty, after all. Your conversations consisted of talking about both your work and your friends. You did most of the talking, actually; he mostly listened and answered when you asked something, but he was nice company, and he had a funny attitude.

A few months into your frequent hangouts, you started noticing that your underwear had started to disappear. You remembered that you put them down in your washing bag, but then they never came out clean; they never came out at all. They were just gone. At least five or six of your favourite panties had just disappeared.

You pieced together all the pieces and realized that they had started to disappear right after you'd hang out with Toji, your first thought was obviously that he wouldn't, right?

After one of your longer hangouts with Toji, you saw something right before he left, there was something in the pocket of his jeans. Something bright pink.

“Toji…”

“Yeah?” He said and turned around, now standing halfway out the door.

“My…underwear has been disappearing, you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Slowly, a grin started to appear on his face, he hummed lowly in response before actually answering. “Ahh, caught me have you?”

“…”

“C’mon, you were the one who told me all that noise from my hookups bothered you, and the soundproofing was too expensive.”

“…So you stopped having them over?”

“Yeah, and I needed something else to help me…” He trailed off, but the words that were supposed to come were obvious.

“Get off?”

“Precisely.”

“So you decided to steal my panties?”

“It was just so tempting to know what you'd taste like.”

“Why not have the real thing instead?” You teased, tilting your head to the side as you stepped back into your apartment, insinuating that he could come in again.

[kitkat13001]

☆⋆｡𖦹° 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎!𝙻 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

>> l lawliet x reader

i feel like he’d thrive with a pet. he’s never had any exposure to animals so it’s definitely a new experience for him. i think the unpredictability of a cat would suit him. its irregular behavior keeps him on his toes, given his tendency to analyze patterns. he’d be very affectionate with a cuddly cat 

i think he would also like the loyalty of a dog. he needs stability in his life 🫶 and a cute little puppy that’ll grow w him is just perfect for him. plus, im sure it’d force him to exercise a little more (couldn’t hurt him tbh) w all the running after it he’d be doing

he watches true crime for background noise—if he actually sits down to watch it, he’ll figure it out in the first five minutes (if he didn’t already know the case outcome himself). he needs to multitask in order to genuinely enjoy it, so he usually puts it on while he cooks or cleans so he’s not dedicating his full focus to it and proceed to act like a mom watching a telenovela 

*gasp* ��they found the body in the lake!”

“hmm…that was anticlimactic.”

“‘breaking news’? i had already figured that out three episodes ago.”

“oh, i worked this case!”

his cooking is shit at the beginning. you have to be patient with him. he goes in thinking bc he’s so smart it’ll come out good no matter what. (this is the case with a lot of activities he’s now discovering due to the new lifestyle). he is wrong. 

HOWEVER…he does improve with time. he’ll follow a recipe to perfection and study it until he gets it right. the only downside is his food tends to be on the more plain/bland side, so if you like strong flavors i’d keep seasonings handy. he grew up in england, what do you expect? he does excel at making sweets and baked goods though, those tend to come out more flavorful.

for all his previously normal ‘secrecy’ he’s actually a chronic oversharer. because you’re bonded for life now, he feels the need to tell you everything, all of the time. his brain runs a mile a minute and he voices pretty much every thought he has. 

“does the fan seem louder to you?”

”no, ryuzaki. go to bed.”

“but we’re not doing anything tomorrow, so we can sleep in. there’s no need to go to bed right this instant.”

“…”

“that won’t be the case next week, though, we’ve got that birthday dinner to attend.”

“…”

“dinner sounds nice enough, but i loathe the thought of shopping for a present. maybe—“

“ryuzaki. go. to. sleep.”

“hmph.”

similarly, he has a tendency to notice your patterns (he calls it a “detective’s habit”). he’s freakishly accurate with it too. sometimes it’s useful, like when he stops at the store to pick up your favorite snacks and hygiene products when he knows your time of the month is approaching. however, sometimes it’s…just weird

“darling, do you need to use the restroom?”

“um…no?”

“really? interesting. your diet hasn’t changed the last couple days, and you usually use the restroom at approximately this time for about 10 to 12 minutes every day.”

“…what the fuck?”

even though you’ve both changed your names in order to secure your identities and safety, he still calls you by your real name when it’s just the two of you. in public he prefers to call you pet names instead of your newfound aliases

he has no issues switching back n forth and he’d never slip up for fear of exposing you both, but he just tries to avoid calling you by your cover name. he feels a little guilty because if he was a ‘normal person’ you wouldn’t have had to undergo all these procedures just to be with him. he’s used to using different names for himself, but it makes him a little sour that you now have to do that too :(

speaking of sour, he’s a veeeryy jealous man. he’s not obnoxious or even outright about it, but he doesn’t like when other people get too close to you (physically and emotionally). part of it is him being paranoid that they “know something” about you, but part of it is just bc he’s just a clingy lil guy 🥺 and he just wants to be your only special guy

he’s like a territorial cat

he gets nightmares about the kira case and all of his other past cases. he doesn’t make a scene when he wakes up from them, but if you notice he’s awake don’t ask him about them. it’s unlikely he’ll answer you, and he’ll feel bad thinking he woke you up. just pretend to still be asleep and subtly cuddle closer

it coaxes him right back to sleep knowing you’re safe and sound beside him. if you’re brave you can ask in the morning, but it’s likely he’ll have forgotten the dream by then

pleeeeassee take up yoga with him. since he doesn’t need to be crouched in his heightened-deductive-skill position 24/7 anymore, it’s a worthwhile investment to fix his posture and his numerous back problems. he might enjoy the calmness and flexibility yoga provides

he might be open to the idea of children. according to canon, he only interacted with the wammy kids once very briefly, but i like to think he was fairly involved with the orphanages considering they were raising his successor. it only makes sense they’d need to get to know him at least a little—and it would explain why near’s mannerisms are so similar to his. 

i think contrary to popular opinion he would be good with kids—in his own special way. he’s not exceptionally cuddly, but he won’t reject affection either. and his intuition and reflexes are so keen that it’s not like the kid would ever be in danger. 

he’s such a homebody. i mean, we already knew that—but him being able to go out in public now has not changed his desire to want to be alone (w/ you)

he has mixed feelings about crowded places. on the one hand, the anonymity of it is kind of nice and it sets his mind at ease that no one will be able to recognize you two in such a swarm. but on the other, someone is touching him and all the noise n stuff sorta overstimulates his nervous system

the next best alternative? take him to places that are still public and out-and-about but a little more secluded. a corner booth in the back of a little restaurant, a sprawling botanical garden, an independent cafe that’s not overcrowded, etc 

HE CANT DRIVE LMAOOO. a helicopter is one thing but cars??? on the road??? with other cars?????!!! he cannot. he’s a MENACE. hopefully you can drive, but if not then it comes to public transportation 🤷‍♀️ 

[arxiwon]

Things Boyfriend!Jay Does to Make You Feel Loved ᥫ᭡

Boyfriend!Jay is the kind of guy who makes love feel effortless. His affection is in the little things—the way his fingers always find yours, the way his gaze lingers like he’s trying to memorize every part of you, the way he makes sure you never feel anything less than cherished. Jay doesn’t love loudly; he loves in the quiet, intimate moments that sneak up on you and leave you breathless.

Holds Your Hand Like It’s Second Nature Jay doesn’t just hold your hand—he owns it. His fingers instinctively lace with yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin. Whether you're walking through a crowded street or sitting side by side, his grip is always firm, as if letting go isn't an option.

Puts His Jacket Over You Without a Word Jay doesn’t ask if you’re cold. He just knows. One second you’re shivering, the next? His jacket is draped over your shoulders, still warm from his body heat. And if you try to refuse? He just shrugs, "Too bad, you’re mine. That means my jacket is yours too."

Tilts Your Chin When He Kisses You Jay’s kisses are never rushed. He tilts your chin up just slightly, eyes flickering between yours and your lips, giving you just enough time to anticipate it before finally closing the distance. The way he kisses you isn’t just affectionate—it’s intentional.

Wraps His Arm Around You in Crowds Jay is protective in a way that feels natural. If you're in a crowded place, his arm immediately finds its way around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. No words, no second thoughts—just instinct. And if anyone so much as looks at you for too long? His grip tightens.

Knows Your Usual Order and Gets It Without Asking Jay remembers everything. Your go-to coffee order, the exact way you like your fries, even that one weird snack you always crave at midnight. Before you even have to say it, he's already handing it to you like, "Here, love. I know you wanted this."

Holds Your Face When He Kisses You Jay’s hands are never idle when he kisses you. He cups your cheeks, fingers grazing your jawline, thumbs brushing against your skin as if trying to memorize the feel of you. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a reminder that you’re his favorite person in the world.

Keeps a Picture of You in His Wallet It’s an old-school habit, but Jay keeps a small photo of you in his wallet. When someone asks about you, he immediately pulls it out with the proudest smile, like you’re his greatest achievement.

Texts You the Moment He Wakes Up and Before He Sleeps Jay’s first and last thoughts of the day? You. His morning texts are simple but sweet—"Good morning, beautiful. Did you sleep well?" And at night? "Sleep tight, love. Dream of me." No matter how busy he is, he always makes time for you.

Leaves Soft Kisses on Your Shoulder When You’re Half-Asleep Jay loves the quiet moments with you, especially when you’re half-asleep. He’ll press soft, lingering kisses against your shoulder, his lips barely grazing your skin as he murmurs, "I love you." It’s his favorite way to say it when you don’t have to say anything back.

Calls You Every Cute Pet Name Possible Jay loves pet names, and he switches them up constantly. "Babe" when he’s being casual, "Princess" when he’s teasing, "Love" when he’s feeling soft. And if he’s really feeling it? He’ll whisper "baby" in that voice—the one that makes your heart drop.

Drunk Jay Is the Softest Jay Jay rarely gets too drunk, but when he does? Oh, he’s a mess. He calls you non-stop just to say he loves you, whines if you’re not there, clings onto you and refuses to let go. The next morning, he acts like he doesn’t remember anything. (He totally does.)

Uses You as His Personal Pillow Jay loves laying on you—head on your lap, arms wrapped around your waist, anything. If you try to move? He tightens his hold. "Nope. You’re stuck with me." He’s never letting go.

The Way He Kisses You? Insane. Jay’s kisses aren’t just kisses. They linger. Forehead kisses that feel so warm and safe, quick pecks just because he can’t resist you, slow, lazy kisses when he’s in his feelings. And if he pulls away just to whisper "You have no idea what you do to me." before going in again? Yeah. Game over.

Says "I Miss You" Even When You’re Right There Jay will literally be holding you and still say: "I miss you." When you ask why? "Dunno. Just do." And somehow, that makes your heart ache in the best way.

Randomly Stares at You Like He’s in Love (Because He Is) Sometimes, you’ll catch Jay just looking at you. No reason. Just admiring you. When you ask him why? He just shrugs. "Can’t I just look at my favorite person?"

Always Puts You First—Always Jay could be exhausted, but if you need something? He’s on it. If you're tired, he’ll run his fingers through your hair until you fall asleep. If you’re sick, he’s making sure you rest properly. If you’re sad, he’s dropping everything to be with you. "You come first, always."

Gets Shy When You Compliment Him Back Jay is all confidence—until you start flirting back. You tell him he looks handsome? He tries to play it cool but subtly smirks. You say you love his voice? He blushes. You call him "my pretty boy"? He malfunctions. "Babe, stop, you’re making me shy." (Yeah, sure, now he’s shy.)

Carries Extra Stuff Just in Case You Need It Jay is that boyfriend who carries your lip balm, hair ties, and even tissues because "I know you always forget these, babe." And if you ever need anything? Boom, he already has it.

Would Rather Suffer Than Let You Be Uncomfortable If there’s one umbrella and it’s raining? You get it all. One blanket and it’s freezing? He wraps it around you first. If he’s holding a drink, but you’re thirsty? He hands it to you without thinking. Jay would literally do anything to make sure you’re okay.

Looks at You Like You’re the Best Thing That’s Ever Happened to Him Jay’s love is in the way he looks at you—like you’re his world, like he can’t believe you’re real, like he never wants to let go. And the best part? He makes sure you know it.

Summary:

Boyfriend!Jay is literally unreal. He’s playful but protective, teasing but deeply affectionate, confident but secretly soft only for you. His love is in the little things—the stares, the touches, the random "I love yous" that make your heart race.

And the best part? He does it all so effortlessly, as if loving you is the most natural thing in the world.

Happy Valentine y'all <3

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Hello, requesting "sleeping in" thank you 🙏

Hello. I’m here, months later. Here’s something.

Buck sleeps in. Eddie’s not sure if that’s a surprise or not. He's long had the somewhat infuriating habit of not plugging his phone in overnight on his days off — theoretically to discourage scrolling on it all night and wasting the battery, but half the time it results in him sheepishly charging it up from fully dead on a page about deep sea ethernet cables or something around noon the next day. So, yeah, his phone is an expensive brick on the nightstand, alarm not even an option, and it's not like they haven't had an extremely eventful last couple of days, almost 24 hours of which Buck had spent in a car headed one way or another. Eddie understands the exhaustion. But, well- he's awake. He kind of feels like his limbs are vibrating with the feeling of- relief, or terror, or joy, or- the feeling of being home. Home, here. Los Angeles, South Bedford, the home he — and Chris — had spent years building, a home of course neither of them could leave behind for long. He lays here, in his own bed, Buck snoring next to him and Chris down the hall, and he wonders why he ever thought he’d belong anywhere else.

Buck shuffles a little and Eddie thinks for a moment maybe- but he just snorts a little and keeps dreaming. Eddie tries to tamp down on the kind of sleepover giddiness bubbling up in his chest — wake up wake up wake up — and takes the opportunity to watch his best friend. His- whatever. Whatever they are now that Eddie knows what kissing him is like, quickly and quietly in his parent’s backyard, now that Eddie has stumbled his way through a question — “Why are you- why did you- all of this- do you- do you-“ — and Buck had frowned a little, not in an unhappy way but in his serious way, and had heard the real thing Eddie had wanted to know, and said “Eddie- of course I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Eddie whispers now, because he hadn’t the other night. He thinks Buck knows, though. He hopes he does. He’ll figure out how to say it to him when he’s awake, he’ll make sure he can never forget it.

His best friend. Whatever else they are or will be, Eddie thinks this first thing will always be true. They’ll always know each other and like each other and want to hang out. With the dubious wisdom of time and age Eddie can admit the few times they’ve fought have mostly been because something had been frustrating one of those wants. Someone should make fun of him for this, probably. Maybe Chris will, Eddie thinks, smiling at the idea that they’re in a place where they can harmlessly tease each other again. “You can’t see Buck for like three days and you go crazy,” he’ll laugh. “I thought I was supposed to be the dramatic teenager here.”

He idly wonders if he really can somehow figure out how to never go more than three days without seeing Buck ever again, and then stifles his own laughter — you’re right, imaginary Chris — because the man is still sleeping — still! — and despite his internal complaining he doesn’t actually want to disturb the guy. He looks so peaceful, passed out hard and melted into his pillow. His pillow, in Eddie’s bed. In Buck’s bed? Who is legally attached to what leases where is a little up in the air at the moment. Maybe it could be their bed. Maybe it's not too soon to say Don’t look for someplace else to live. Just stay here with me, with us. Maybe he just doesn’t care if other people think he’s moving too fast. He doesn’t even think he is, really. The will was years ago. He’s thought more about this relationship, worked harder on it and for longer, than any other in his life. Seven years is long enough to know.

Stay with me, he thinks at Buck, looking at his curls that are flattened in some places and sticking out weird in others. Tonight and every other night we get. He thinks Buck will say yes. He’s pretty certain Buck will say yes. He moved in so Eddie could leave, he’s pretty certain Buck will stay for him, too.

“Do you have a secret kid somewhere I can do something financially irresponsible for to prove my devotion to you?” Eddie asks in a whisper. Buck snorts again, but doesn’t otherwise stir. “Okay. Well, I’ll figure something else out.”

Buck’s eyelashes are pale against his cheek. His skin is rougher than when they first met, older, aging. His birthmark isn't visible, pressed into the pillow, because Buck is turned towards Eddie in his sleep. He’s all stubbly — it had itched against his face, Eddie remembers — and Eddie will kind of miss it when he has to shave before work tomorrow. He can grow it back, though, and Eddie will be around to see it in this new life where they never spend more than three days apart. Two days, maybe. 48 hours in a row and they have to say sorry, gotta go, my-

Husband? My husband is waiting for me? Bobby will probably have a harder time arguing for them to stay on the same shift if they get married, and that will make the whole never-apart-for-long thing harder. So, not yet. Not yet. But Eddie watches Buck’s chest rise and fall and thinks: someday.

He gets so caught up in that thought, the two of them in suits and nice food and pretty lights and dancing and making promises, that he doesn’t register for a moment the blue eyes blinking back at him.

“Oh,” he says, sounding stupidly surprised.

“Hi,” Buck says, the word tripping out on a little huff of laughter. Eddie wants to- to taste it. He stays where he is.

“Good morning.”

Buck smiles, so big it seems to take him a moment to catch his breath. “Morning.” He yawns, stretching out like a cat for all his puppy-like tendencies. “Time is it?”

Eddie doesn’t actually know, having better things to look at than an alarm clock or phone screen, so he rolls slightly to check. “9:15.” When he rolls back Buck is right there, slinging an arm over Eddie all casual like they’ve done this a million times instead of never before, but Eddie thinks he’s right, it doesn’t feel new at all. He grabs a handful of Buck’s shirt and just holds on, feeling his body heat.

“Slept in,” Buck says, and he doesn't seem surprised or not surprised about it either. He leans forward and kisses Eddie’s cheek, quick, quiet. They have time for- for something else, now. Something longer. There’s no rush. But first, Eddie has to make sure, he has to make it clear, he has to ask:

“Will you sleep in tomorrow? Here? And- and every other day, if you want. Forever, Buck, if you want.”

Buck smiles, again so wide it takes a moment for him to speak. “We still gotta get up on work days, Eddie.”

Eddie laughs. It makes his body lean forward under Buck’s arm, closer to him. Their knees bump together. “Well- okay. I can compromise on that. I’m very reasonable. Every other day.”

“Every other day,” Buck agrees, easily, and leans in again for something else, something longer.

[cybershock24601]

Imagining a Ingellvar who still on reflex does things like have their breakable things sufficiently anchored in case gravity changes and keeping important documents under things in case of blood rain and just having a whole bunch of quirks that they don't really think of as quirks just because they're things she grew up doing because she grew up in a place where reality's rules change and twists. The team tries to ask her why she does what she does. Her and Emmerich's explanations raise more questions than they answer.

Ingellvar having a bunch of weird little habits from growing up in the Necropolis that everyone just passes off as personal quirks until Emmrich shows up and does the same things and suddenly what everyone wrote off as weird quirks become a bit of a mystery. The team does ask about it but everyone's convinced that Ingellvar and Emmrich are fucking with them because what do you mean you always carry an umbrella around in case of blood rain??

At least everyone is convinced they're being messed with until they're accompanying Rook and Emmrich to the Necropolis and start to experience how fucking weird it is.

Harding is tagging along behind Rook and Emmrich and suddenly Emmrich vanishes out of thin air and Harding starts freaking out while Rook's all like "chill, it's just a Chronological Incontinence Incident. Emmrich will be fine" and Harding's like "What does that even mean???" and Rook starts to explain going full Watcher mode and by the time she's almost done Emmrich is back and it's all good though he does disagree with Rook's preferred theory behind the phenomena and they end up having a rather spirited debate on the subject while Harding is slowly losing her mind and also takes note that Rook really does talk different in the Necropolis.

Neve's helping Rook and Emmrich clear out some more Venatori that have snuck into the Necropolis and suddenly the gravity turns off and everyone starts floating. Rook and Emmrich barely pause in their spell slinging while everyone else is freaking out. Neve too is freaking out but does an admirable job of composing herself after she falls on her ass when she hits the ground while Rook and Emmrich nimbly land on their feet.

Davrin's trying to keep Assan from turning the bones lying around into chew toys when suddenly the room is submerged in total darkness and he suddenly gets an armful of freaked out baby griffin as Assan tries to climb his way up Davrin in a panic at being suddenly blinded. Or alternately Assan ends up going right to sleep like a bird, I'm not sure whether the bird side or the cat side would win out here. Either way while Davrin's wondering what the fuck is going on, Rook and Emmrich are being super chill about the whole experience because sudden unexplained darkness is not that uncommon in the Necropolis.

Lucanis is the lucky one who gets blood rained on. It starts out like little droplets of water which is strange enough because they're inside but the smell of iron is unmistakable and the red color is pretty unmistakably blood like and Lucanis barely gets out a very emphatic "what the fuck" before it suddenly starts pouring blood rain. Luckily Rook and Emmrich always carry an umbrella around so Lucanis gets to share with Rook. Bonus points for this being pretty early in their romance and Rook is swooning over how romantic it is to have a nice walk through the blood rain sharing an umbrella while Lucanis is Going Through It and experiencing the horrors of Necropolis. The fact that Rook and Emmrich are so unfazed about the fact that it is literally raining blood almost makes the situation worse.

Bellara is the one that handles the weirdness of the Necropolis the best because Arlathan Forest gets pretty freaky too. Remember the story about the guy stuck in the clouds? So while the Necropolis' shenanigans are generally creepier, she takes the weird shit in stride and is actually very interested on the why and how of why all the statues in the room suddenly started crying blood.

Taash is the only one to escape the madness because they nope the fuck out of ever going to the Necropolis once everyone starts mentioning the weird stuff that goes on there. Necromancy is already bad enough but they are not going to haunted super cemetery.

Because I am a fan of semi-sentient locations, the reason the Necropolis keeps acting up like this is because it's excited it's Crypt Baby is back and that excitement is manifesting in weird unexplained phenomena.

[minarinnn]

girl dinner anon here please can I have more crumbs of Kunigami and Barou your writing for them was so good and I haven’t seen anything new for them in a while 😭🙏

I dunno if I want anything specific- maybe like breeding or something but you can do whatever your heart desires desires 🙏🙏🙏🙏

OMG I ENJOYED WRITING THAT SM NGL, this took longer than expected but honestly it’s bc i kinda forgot to post it so yh sorry for the delay lmao

content/trigger warnings: afab! reader, characters are aged up, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy kink, degrading, praising, groping, rough sex, implied size kink

BAROU

barou always pulled out. he didn’t mind it. there was never any real desire to get you pregnant. that was until he saw you with his baby nephew at a family event. the kid was around 2 years old and you spent almost the whole night fussing over him

you played, fed, and even cuddled with him. he saw his nephews sleeping figure in your arms as your soft hands caressed his back. he doesn’t know why but barou felt all tingly inside. he never had the urge to do it but the thought of you carrying a kid that looks exactly like him turned him on immensely

so when you get to your shared apartment and barou pounces on you, you think nothing of it. you’re like putty in his big, rough hands. you really couldn’t get enough of him

the way his dick stretched you out perfectly, bruising your cervix as you moaned out his name. your pretty nails scratching and leaving marks along his back while his heavy balls smacked against your ass

your eyes rolling back over his rough pacing that immediately makes you go dumb on his fat cock. his hands groping all over your body as he growls lewd things in your ears that make you clench impossibly harder on his dick

“it hasn’t even been ten minutes and you’re already dumb on my cock, huh? you pretty little slut” the words making you whine and your eyes water. “i’m gonna fuck my baby into you” he grunted, reaching deeper into your soaking cunt “you’d like that, wouldn’t you pretty?”

you nod, babbling incoherent words as your second orgasm washed over you, making you buck your hips towards him. “i’m’a make you a fuckin’ mommy” is the last thing he said before dumping his seed into your cunt, thrusting it deep into you, making you take every single drop

KUNIGAMI

kunigami has always been a big family guy so the though of having a family of his own always excited him. but when you said you didn’t wanna have kids yet, he respected it. though he did have the habit of asking questions like ‘when do you think you’ll be ‘ready?’ ‘how many do you wanna have?’ ‘do you want any at all?’

so when you told him you were getting off the pill, not because you wanted children, but because of the side effects that came with it, he was oddly weird about it. maybe it was because he enjoyed cumming inside of you and now he had to pull out

the next few times go by with him pulling out, he didn’t like doing it, but he respected you and your wishes. as much as he’d like to dump his cum into you like he used to, he knew he had to restrain himself

but when the words “im ready” and “please cum inside” slip out of your mouth while he’s pounding his dick into you, he goes feral. his pace immediately picks up, making you moan in pleasure as his thrust went from gentle and loving to rough and quick

kunigami’s mind was filled with images of your belly growing and your boobs heavy and sore. the thought of you carrying his baby just fueled him to the max

you could feel his dick twitching within your gummy walls as his lips feverishly kissed along your entire body, his thumb rubbing circles on your thigh. “you’re gonna be such a good mommy” his sweet words contrasted his rough pace. you could feel his big cock pushing past your cervix and his breeder balls smacking against your plush ass

with a few more thrust and a few whines, he painted your walls white. resting his sweaty body on top of yours while he kissed your shoulder. both your chest’s heaving up and down while your hand roamed his fluffy orange hair

“i hope we have twins”

© MINARINNN 2023 - please do not plagiarize or upload my content on any social media platform.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

You should do cheka in 10 yrs maybe hes a first year in nrc

Omg Cheka NRC era?? 😭

A lot of the headcanons I have written here were inspired by child!Simba’s behaviors, just cuz I don’t think he’d yet have the traits of adult!Simba at 15 years old + we don’t know a lot about adolescent!Simba.

What comes after Ever After?

Cheka Kingscholar is one of latest fresh-faced first years at NRC—and, as Fate would have it, the Mirror of Darkness sorts him into Savanaclaw, the very same dorm his beloved uncle once ruled over. Cheka’s so excited about the news that he phones up his uncle on the spot and lets him know!! (“Oi, aren’t you in the middle of the opening ceremony right now?! Sheesh, to think that the heir to the throne has no regard for maintaining decorum during formal functions… Ol’ Kifaji would shed a tear if he knew.”)

Speaking of phoning back home, Cheka keeps lines of communication with his family open! He’s constantly calling or writing to say hi or to give life updates. Boy can yap for what seems like forever, which deeply annoys Leona, but makes his parents gush about how excitable he is.

He’s the bane of most of his classmates’ existence. His cheer and boundless energy alone are annoying enough to deal with, but he’s also got a cocky streak to him. Cheka frequently boasts about how he’ll be king someday and speaks passionately about these lofty, grand ideals he has. It gives the impression that he doesn’t fully understand the weight of his crown quite yet.

His ego has him stupidly challenging his dorm leader like every other week for the seat. Cheka always gets his ass handed to him, but that doesn’t stop him from getting back up and trying again!! His dorm members think he’s reckless, but they have to admire his tenacity.

Cheka’s a “go with the flow” kind of guy. If something goes wrong, he’ll let it slide or shrug it off. He lives by this motto from his home country… Hakuna matata! Ever heard of it? It means “no worries for the rest of your days.” Unfortunately, this also means he had a tendency to run away from problems rather than attempting to solve them. This has earned him no shortage of ire from staff and fellow students alike.

He’s not very interested or gifted in academics; Cheka has a habit of getting distracted in lectures and cutting classes in favor of going on what he calls “adventures” into unknown nooks and crannies on campus, especially the forbidden areas. He’s too curious not to! “Danger?” Cheka barely bats an eye. “I laugh in the face of danger.”

He likes to eat grubs and other bugs in his food, claiming that they “taste like chicken” and that they’re an excellent source of protein. Cheka’s adventurous stomach has made him infamous on campus; he’ll sometimes receive dares to try out strange food concoctions (chocolate milk, corn, and jello was a recent one), which he’s always up for.

Cheka is not as good at magift/spelldrive as he would like (despite pestering his uncle to coach him). He also weirds his classmates out whenever they’re playing a sport and he tries to rally them to do a group chant.

A proud member of the Pop/Light Music Club!! He’s great at improvising lyrics and getting the audience to clap and dance along to the upbeat songs he writes.

Has two bodyguards enrolled at the school to protect him, similar to the hat Sebek and Silver did for Malleus 10 years ago. They’re kinda goofy and laidback, but if Cheka is ever in need of help, they’re there for him.

Sometimes Kifaji pays a visit to Night Raven College to check up on his prince. He usually has a scolding prepared for Cheka, whether it be on his behavior or grades, but it comes from a place of genuine love and concern. Cheka reassures him that he’s doing fiiine, so lay off and let him live a little, won’t he?

Cheka loves to swim around in the Savanaclaw lounge’s indoor pool. He once dove into it from the second story railing and did a dive bomb, sending water flying everywhere.

On nights when he can’t sleep, he gazes out of his bedroom window and stares at the stars. They look so different on Sage’s Island than they do back home—but stargazing always makes Cheka feel less lonely. He knows the great kings of the past are looking down on him, and that his father and uncle are blanketed under this same sky.

[supernatural-bias]

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡

↳ summary: in which gabriel can be a shithead, you're awkward, and a shifter really messes up your first interaction

↳ warnings: violence, blood (mentioned), and lots of weird stuff

↳ authors note: this was a wip turned valentines day event submission for @spnfanficpond. the prompt was "an archangel falls in love with a mortal." a bit early but what the hell. for the three other gabriel fans out there, enjoy my first work of the new year.

↳ song: awful—hole

masterlist | commissions | carrd

“You know, never in my billions of years on this planet have I met someone who can avoid me as well as you all do."

Dean jolts in his seat as he looks up from his bowl of cereal, bleary eyed and slow to the draw. A few cheerios find their way onto his lap at the movement, and stick there. Through a slow blink, he stares at them, watching as his pants sop up the milk from them. Eventually he finds his voice, annoyance creeping into the groan he lets out.

"Dude, how many times have I told you to warn me before you use your freaky magic to pop in here." Dean glares at Gabriel as he tries his best to mop up some milk he spilled with the ends of his sleep shirt, giving up after a moment.

The archangel Gabriel grins down at Dean from his spot on the kitchen counter. He had on a set of unassuming clothes, looking like he might have gone on a casual stroll before dropping by the bunker. His hair fell in little curtains, framing his face like he had woken up and done nothing more than run a few fingers through it.

Dean looks down at his old Led Zeppelin shirt and mismatched socks. He grumbles.

"My bad Dean-o. I thought you would have been used to it by now, what with my baby bro practically bunking here half the time. What's up with that anyway?" Hopping off the counter Gabriel stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets, sticking his thumbs out as he begins to walk around the bunker's kitchen. He pauses every so often to mess with a stray utensil or two, fidgeting with them before placing them back at an angle that Dean knew would annoy Sam.

"Uh huh." Dean ignores the question to duck his head down and take another bite of cereal. He looks at Gabriel from the corner of his eye as he gives a crunch, swallowing for a second. He takes a brief moment to debate the consequences of drawing an banishing sigil before sighing. Dean might not like the archangel much— certainly not enough to tolerate him this early on in the morning —but he also knew that Gabriel had a habit of cursing people with some bizarre spell if they didn't give him the light of day.

"I'm assuming you didn't drop by to tidy up our kitchen and go." The hunter squints, blinking some crust out of his eyes in an attempt to be fully present for the conversation. "Can we help you, or—?"

Gabriel snaps his fingers to show Dean he had heard him, turning on his heel to look at the hunter with an expression Dean didn't see on him much. If he squinted hard enough, he thought it looked a bit like hesitancy.

"Right. I was wondering where your good pal—" Gabriel said your name, prompting Dean's eyebrows to draw closer together, "—was. You know, fellow hunter? Been holed up here for a couple months? Got a maaaajorly messed up sleep schedule? About yay high?" Gabriel holds out his arm to approximately your height with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Dean watches him do it with a frown, not entirely impressed.

"Why do you want to know where they are?" He slurps back some more cereal, eyeing Gabriel as he did so. "They've got stuff to do. Monsters to gank. How would I know where they were? And more importantly, why do you of all people want to know?"

Gabriel sucks at his teeth.

"Can't a guy just ask a friend of his a few questions?" He gives a dazzling grin; a stark contrast to Dean's bitchface. Gabriel had taken to calling it the Winchester Special long ago, and looks at Dean with a poorly concealed smirk.

"We're not friends, twinkle toes." Dean stabs at the air in Gabriel's direction with his spoon.

"Owch." He fakes a wince, sighing dramatically. "Point taken."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"I just want to get to know them a little better." The angel seemingly concedes, now leaning his hip against one of the kitchen counters and looking at Dean with a bite to his lip. "Form new friendships with like-minded people and all that."

"Like-minded people?" Dean raises an eyebrow. "You met them a week ago."

"Hey, they like killing monsters, my whole family tree is full of em." Gabriel holds two hands out, tilting them up and down like scales. "I'm sure we can find common ground in there somewhere."

"I knew letting you come on that last mission was a mistake." Dean grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.

"Whaaat, that last one? With the shapeshifter? No way you regret that, amigo! I totally helped you nail that sucker." Gabriel grins knowingly. Dean suppresses a shudder at his use of Spanish, images of Casa Erotica surfacing in his consciousness before being forced away.

"Let me rephrase that for you: I knew that if you ever met one of our friends, you'd do this." Dean ignores Gabriel's previous comment about helping, the likes of which wasn't entirely wrong. Although you'd be hard pressed to hear a Winchester ever admit when they were wrong.

"What? Be charming?"

"Be annoying." Dean glares. "It's already bad enough we have to deal with you ourselves."

"You know I'm just gonna pester you until you give me a hint, right?" Gabriel tilts his head, quirking an eyebrow. Dean looks away, struggling to come up with an excuse to get the cosmic being to leave him and his breakfast alone.

“If you want to talk to them so much, why don't you use that mojo of yours everyone is always trying to kill us over.”

“You know I can't do that, smartass.” Gabriel stares Dean down with a squint. “You three made sure of that when you went around branding all your friends with angel magic."

Dean returns the look, only breaking away when he thought about how soggy his cereal was getting. He turns back to his bowl just in time to see a cheerio sinking beneath the milk, letting out a pathetic bubble or two as it went.

"They're on a hunt right now." He finally relents with a sigh. He figures that he could apologize to you tomorrow about pointing the angel your way. "Don't ask me where, I don't know. They said they'd be back today."

He looks up suddenly, pointing an accusatory finger at Gabriel. "Whatever you're about to do, just make sure to do it far away from here. Last time you fucked around in the bunker, it took us a week to clean up. Cas is still finding confetti in his damn coat pockets.”

"Who said I was doing anything?" Mirth dances behind golden eyes. Dean opens his mouth to respond, but finds the words dying upon arrival.

"Stupid angels and their stupid wings." He mutters to a now empty kitchen. The sound of fluttering papers was the only thing to answer him.

Whatever. Gabriel was someone else's problem now.

Picking up the cereal box in front of him, Dean frowns and goes to pour himself another bowl of cheerios.

"Ooh, honey nut."

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Sleep was the one thing you miss most from your old life, and everyone knows it.

Before vampires, and ghosts, and all those new monsters of the week that seem to pop up anytime you relax, it had just been you, your bed, and the occasional night shift. While you don’t miss those late nights spent dealing with fussy customers, you certainly did miss your old bed sheets— the kind that never seemed to be too hot in the summer, and kept you perfectly toasty in the winter. At least, they had been, until you used them to choke a werewolf out in your dorm room. They had been sort of ruined after that.

Since then, your back has been plagued with one too many nights on a shitty motel mattress for it to be concidered anything other than torture. The Men of Letters Bunker is certainly a nice change of pace from the looming threat of bed bugs and airborne illnesses, but even their mattresses are far from perfect.

You can’t entirely blame the old guys. You doubt you'd be concerned with the exact thread count of a few bed sheets if the hideout you were building was for that of doomsday. It couldn't have killed them to stash a bit more memory foam around, though. God, all you wanted these days was a bit more memory foam.

With a grunt, you open the door to the bunker, and stumble in with a somber expression.

You don't say hi to Sam or Dean as you trudge down the steps to the bunker, and if they know anything about you, they wont seek you out for a hello either. You feel way too sore to be indulging in civil small talk at the moment. All that's on your mind was is hot bath, and the inviting arms of your mediocre bed. A warm welcome back from a successful vamp kill.

It takes you approximately twenty minutes of blissful, soapy heaven before you reach sight of your bed, now accompanied by an unusual addition: leather jacket and all.

"For someone who supposedly lives here, you are really hard to find. I'm starting to hate that chicken scratch on your ribs."

Your hand is still on your bedroom door knob when you walk into Gabriel propped up on your bed. Little droplets of water are sliding off of your skin and onto the floor as you stand there, and they splatter against the hardwood unceremoniously.

"...Gabriel?"

"The one and only." Your visitor grins, shifting on his spot on the bed. He looks as casual as one can be, and it stirs something up from within you.

You pull your eyebrows together in the beginnings of a glare, but relax them at the last moment. You’re too tired to get angry right there. Instead, you decide focus on his clothes, desperate for any sort of distraction.

He looks like he’s ready to walk onto a movie set, with a smooth shirt and comfy pants, sitting there in a leather jacket and with that smile of his. Or at least something of that caliber.

Suddenly you are very aware of your disheveled appearance.

"Uhm—" To say you feel a little unprepared for this visit, both emotionally and physically, would be an understatement. You’re in sleep clothes that have far too many holes peppered in them, and your hair sticks to your forehead in the shape of damp curls. Hardly ready for any type of chatter. "Did Sam or Dean let you in?"

"You could say that." Gabriel sighs, shooting you an award winning smile as you scratch the back of your neck. You accidentally dig a little too hard, and pull away before you can draw blood. If Gabriel notices, he doesn't say anything.

Your phone buzzes from inside your pocket. You spare a glance at it, reading the notification with a set expression before slipping it back inside your pants.

"What are you doing here? Did you need something?" You ask as you step into your room, leaving the door ajar behind you. You try not to stare at him too hard as you crossed the room, heading straight for your desk chair. It has an unfamiliar jacket draped across it haphazardly, probably one of the Winchesters, and you slip it on, feeling a bit better once you zip up the front. You see Gabriel hop off your bed out of the corner of your eye as you do so. He brings his hands out his pockets, rocking on his heels while looking up at the ceiling.

"Man, you and your pals with all these questions. Is it a crime to make friendly conversation around here?”

You stare at him.

“The last, and only, time we talked was in a sewer, Gabriel.” You remind him, purposefully keeping your answer short. He smiles, seemingly not put out by the memory, even if you grimace at the mental image.

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Blood and guts covered you head to toe. Shapeshifter skin was clumped in your hair, and you had been stomping around in the sewers for what felt like hours.

The hit you had taken to the face earlier had been embarrassing. Even more so when your nose had started to bleed all but immediately, gushing down your front like a faucet while you attempted to stab the creature on top of you to an unsuccessful degree.

Dean had volunteered to cover the front of the group when the shapeshifter had gotten away, signaling at you to watch everyone's backs. You had listened without much of a complaint, falling back with a nod and taunt muscles.

All of that had happened in the span of five minutes. That's just how it went as a hunter. Expect the unexpected, and when it eventually happened, try to keep your head on straight.

Speaking of the unexpected.

"So, what's a fella like you doing galavanting around with these two chuckleheads?"

You attempted to hush the angel next to you awkwardly, using the stealth of the hunt as an excuse for your lack of conversation. Gabriel shot you a look, gesturing forwards at Sam and Dean; who were both chattering away about something heatedly while the two of you trailed behind.

"I don't think I'm the one who's going to get us caught in this situation, sugar." He cocked a brow. A smile appeared when you pursed your lips, joy overriding his deadpan look.

"Why are you even here again?" You pivoted, taking extra care to avoid a clump of what looked like teeth by your foot.

"Oh, boredom, curiosity, a hankering for my monthly dose of flannel— take your pick, really."

Your lips twitched upwards at that. Gabriel watched with a twinkle in his eyes, only for it to fade when you forced down the smile.

When Sam and Dean had told you an angel would probably be dropping by, the last thing you expected was a sly, shit eating grin accompanied by honey brown ringlets of hair. You might not be as well versed on the topic of heaven as the brothers were, but you had certainly expected an archangel of all things to be, well, more serious.

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“Well, forgive me for thinking you might have alternative motives for breaking into my room.” You bring yourself back to the present. Leaning against the wall, you settle on watching him meander about the room. “I’ve heard some stories from Dean and Sam that don't exactly paint you as a model citizen.”

”Oh, what, the time loop thing? That was years ago. Pretty long by human standards.” He smiles. Your mind lingers on the 'human standards' part of his statement for a second too long as Gabriel waves a dismissive hand at you, using the other to rotate a picture frame.

It’s the one with you, Cas, and the brothers in front of Bobby's house. The afternoon after a successful hunt, if you were remembering things right. Bobby himself had been missing from the picture, too busy making sure the camera had all of you in its sights to make his way over in time.

In the photo, your arm is slung as far over Cas’s shoulder as it can go, and you’re sporting a pair of bunny ears thanks to Dean. Sam is mid laugh in the photo, and Cas’s eyes are half closed. It’s a horrible picture.

But it’s still framed and sitting on the dresser you barely use.

”That really happened? A whole ass time loop?" You clear your throat, not wanting to think about the picture any longer. Gabriel seems to pick up on your change in mood, and spares a glance at you.

”Doubting my abilities, are you?” He sets down the picture frame gently and moves on to something else, saying nothing about your small appreciative sigh as he does so.

”More like doubting Sam’s ability to tell a story.” You snort despite yourself. “I sort of lost the plot when he started talking about the piano that fell on Dean.”

"Ah. That." Gabriel sighs like he’s recalling a fond memory, refusing to elaborate with anything more than a smile. At this point, you don’t even want to know.

"Anyways—" The angel had gotten closer to you sometime during the conversation, now on the same side of the room as you. "I gotta say, you did catch me. I am here for more than just a quick chat." He holds his hands up like a criminal caught in the act, pursing his lips while he does so. You let him play the situation up as you wait for him to go on, your old friend curiosity rearing its head inside of you as he waits.

"Remember the shifter case?" Gabriel tilted his head your way when you don’t respond, prompting you to nod.

"..the one we were just talking about?" Your eyes are narrowed at this point.

"The very same." He clicks his tongue.

"Yeah. Kind of hard to forget." You hum as casually as you can, trying not to give away any of your feelings. Gabriel notices how you’re now avoiding his gaze.

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Moonlight from a sewer grate above your head illuminated your path. Ripples of water disrupted the puddles at your feet, and there was no one there to cringe at the smell of it but you.

When the shifter had jumped you all from around a corner, Sam and Dean had taken off after it, chasing the creature down too many twisting tunnels for you to count. Gabriel, who had stuck with you nearly the entire time, was much faster than he seemed. Even if you thought you had a few inches on him, he quickly outpaced you, eventually leaving you to wonder if the boys had taken a left or a right at that last impasse. And you were pretty sure you had taken the wrong path, if the empty stretch of sewer in front of you told you anything.

Either way, you were lost.

"Shit." You cringed uncomfortably as you stepped in something especially squishy. "Sewers. Why is it always fuckin' sewers. Can't I ever go on a hunt at a nice resort sometimes?" You spoke to no one in particular. Maybe if you prayed to Chuck tonight, he'd write a nicer adventure for you. One with hot towels and massages.

You frowned. Nah. Probably not.

A sudden noise pulled your attention away from the unfortunate scene by your feet. The sound was faint, barely even there, but the curved walls of the sewers amplified it.

It sounded, well, wet for a lack of better words.

Images of blood, loose skin, and barred flesh flashed through the backs of your eyelids. Imagination and memories blurred together, and it raised the hairs on the back of your neck.

You raised your gun steadily. Holding a flashlight in your other hand, you crossed the two items over each other as you stalked in the direction the noise was coming from.

The stone battered walls around you began to slant outwards. Against your better judgement, you followed the movement of them, taking one step after another until eventually it led you into a bigger part of the sewer.

"Sam?" Dean?" You called, venturing further into the opening. The sound was amplified, now louder than the water that had begun to flow by your feet. It spilled out into the giant room of pipes before you as you crept forward. "..Gabriel?"

Nobody answered you. Just more of that noise.

With a heavy gaze, you squared your shoulders, and prepared for a fight.

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"Well, I wanted to talk about what happened." Gabriel's gaze is piercing as he looks at you. If you were anyone else, you might have squirmed underneath it, but you hold steady. Er, try to at least.

Gabriel rocks on his feet once more as you stare at a wall. From the corner of your eye, you see him clearly looking at you, and it lights a dangerous spark to something you’ve been pushing aside. Emotional constipation sort of comes with the territory of being a hunter, if you’re being honest, and in times like these your issues were certainly no help.

"Hey, if you're mad that I managed to get the final kill and not you, there's probably some angel therapist out there you could find to work out the kinks in your ego." You go for the humorous route, shrugging nonchalantly as you attempt to swing the conversation in a direction other than the way it was currently barreling. It’s your attempt to give him a way out.

"That's not what I mean and you know it." He doesn’t take it, pushing forward.

Now you’re the one fiddling with your stuff. You feel like your suffocating in your own room— Gabriel's presence practically taking up a whole corner of it without him even realizing. You briefly wonder if that was an angel thing. A mental image of giant wings crowding around you and your belongings comes to mind the more you think about it. It makes you angry.

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Each step you took into the room felt more and more coated with danger. The air was practically thick with it. You were struggling to breathe through the stench.

You saw shoes. Two pairs. One looked too familiar for comfort. Had Sam been wearing those? Or were they Dean's? A giant, rust ladened pipe blocked everything else from your view, obscuring the answer.

The sounds were only getting louder. Something— someone —whimpered.

"Goddamnit— Fuck this."

You rounded the corner at the end of the pipe, finger twitching over the trigger. You nearly shot, ready to fly into a fight, only to see—

Yourself. Kissing Gabriel.

And doing a damn good job at it.

You watched as a pair of lips the exact shade and shape as your own devoured him. The two of them had both hands on the other, trying to find purchase in the fabric on their bodies. There was no doubt in your mind anymore what those noises were, and a part of you found yourself wishing it had been something bloody. You even weren’t sure if they knew you were standing across the room from them, gun hanging in your limp hand as your eye twitched uncontrollably.

"What the fuck?"

Your identical twin was the first one to react at the sound of your strangled voice. Their head snapped back from Gabriel's, mouths parting as they turned to look at you.

Nausea rolled over you in waves as you looked into your own eyes. Everything about them we're perfect. You reckoned if you went as far as to count the number of eyelashes you had, theirs would have been the same. Not a single detail was off: from the clothes, down to the few strands of hair you could never get tamed.

"Oops. You caught me." The shifter caught their breath enough to grin, birding holes into your eyes. They even managed to embody every bit of inflection you put into your voice when you talked. You felt a little bile claw its way up your throat.

They were still holding onto the front of Gabriel's jacket, standing there. Gabriel's chest heaved from under their grip as he looked between the two of you. His lips were parted slightly, and his hair was messy; no doubt from the shifter running a hand through it. The sight of him gave you a small pause in your movements, and for the life of you, you didn't know why.

Both you and the shifter stared at him, the latter of you waiting for him to catch up. You were still trying to process all this yourself. Eventually, he found his voice and your wide eyes.

"So.. that's not you I take it?" Gabriel pointed lamely at the carbon copy standing a mere few feet away from him.

"Pretty safe to say yeah." You gave him a look that was borderline crazed.

"Ah. Well."

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Later, you didn't tell Dean or Sam how exactly you'd managed to gank the shifter in that pipe room. It was believable enough that you had managed to tackle it, letting Gabriel take over with the smiting from there. A whole lot easier than admitting you had chopped it's head off in one short go, a burst of confusion and anger aiding your rush across the room at the time as you cut of whatever evil speech it had been preparing to give about killing you all— something to do with impersonating you and striking when everyone’s guards were down.

You didn't bother coming up with a lie for why Gabriel's shirt was buttoned back up wrong. He could do that himself.

The angel had played along with your lie at the time, only commenting with a smart ass quip or two when Dean sent a hard glare his way. It was a good lie overall. You knew the brothers, Dean particularly, would blow their tops if they knew exactly what had happened. And sometimes, what the Winchesters didn't know, wouldn't hurt them.

You remember emerging from the sewers after that, Sam and Dean already talking about the quickest route out of town so they could avoid local law enforcement. You remember sitting down on a roadside curb as they talked, staring at the soiled ends of your shoelaces. You remembered thinking about what had happened, and not being surprised when Sam came over to tell you that Gabriel had already taken off, saying something about angel's business he had to take care of.

You just hate that the one thing you couldn't stop remembering was the look in Gabriel's eyes when he had pulled away from the shifter.

What more, was that you hated that that very same look was the one currently staring you down from across the room, directing all of its owners undecided attention to you.

"Look, let's not play dumb here." Gabriel chooses to be the one to break the silence. You’re partly grateful, but his opening quickly dispels any thankfulness.

"Dumb." You echo back. You feel your upper lip curl a little. It wasn't a question, just his own word thrown back at him. Gabriel nods, but you see him hesitate.

"You're angry." He says slowly, as if testing how the words fell on his tongue.

"Sure, yeah. Because if I'm remembering correctly, one of us walked into the other kissing a monster down in that shithole and then took off. And it sure as hell wasn't me." You can’t decide if you should raise your voice for emphasis, or lower it to disguise the slight shake you knew he was hearing. You settle for neither.

Gabriel doesn't have a witty response prepared for that. He opens his mouth as if to say something, before closing it without a word. You knew from Castiel that angels didn't sweat or blush, much less from embarrassment, but staring at Gabriel, you’re damn sure that he was wrong.

"Did you come here to explain yourself, or just bring up something that happened weeks ago without elaboration?" You chew at the inside of your cheek furiously, trying desperately to focus on anything other than the heat rising along your neck.

Gabriel doesn’t seem to like your sudden accusation. He tilts his head down slightly with a frown, his flush now completely gone as he bites at his own cheek subconsciously. He mirrors you without even realizing it. "Uhm, sweetheart, from what I can recall, shifters tend to tap into your hidden desires."

"I don’t want to hear it from the guy who couldn't stick around long enough to clean up his messes." You ignore the spike of anxiety you felt all of a sudden, choosing to keep your voice devoid of any emotions as you pin him in place with one look. You refuse to confirm or deny his statement.

Neither of you seem to know what to say after that. For the first time since you had met him, Gabriel was anything but smiles, and you couldn't decide if that made you uncomfortable, or sad.

You watch as a handful of emotions shadow his face. Some you can pinpoint— anger, hesitation, guilt —and some you can’t. You aren’t sure if the same story is currently being played out on your face, but judging on the way his eyes soften after finally taking a proper look at you, you bet that was the case.

He takes a deep breath, letting it out as he carefully makes his way to sit on the edge of your bed.

"You want to know why I really dropped by?" He watches you as you nod at him quickly, pushing him to continue. "To apologize."

Gabriel almost calls you sugar, but stops himself before he could. Now is not the time. Not while he's thinking about how tight your grip is around your jacket sleeves right now, and most certainly not while he's remembering how it felt when the shifter walked up to him with your smile, offering him something he hadn't thought twice about refusing.

You don't say anything. You don't do much of anything but breathe, letting the rise and fall of your chest mark each passing second. He takes that as a sign to continue, despite how much he wants to snap himself away at the moment.

"I'm not exactly a model citizen. Or angel. You've probably gathered that much." He says in one quick breath, slurring his words a little more than normal. "I make stupid decisions, and I don't exactly have the best track record about cleaning them up."

You mumble something under your breath. Gabriel stops himself, allowing you a chance to speak up in case you wanted to. When you don't, he swallows, and continues

"I understand if you want to tell Dean and Sam to kick me out, hell I figured you would have done it yourself by now.” He seems frustrated— whether it’s with himself or something else, you don’t know —and it doesn't take a genius to see it. Gone is his usual bravado and pop culture references, replaced with a bouncing leg and an uncharacteristically nervous tone. “I just wanted to say sorry for kissing you. It. Them. Whatever.”

You blink.

"Wait." You tilt your head down and shake it, eyebrows furrowed with a look of confusion. "That's what you're apologizing for?"

He pauses, hands pushed in his pockets like he doesn't know what to do with them. Something akin to confusion flickers across his face.

"..yes?"

You push yourself off the wall, unfolding your arms and rubbing your face as if trying to ground yourself. He watches as your lips press into a fine line. He tells himself now is not the right time to be staring at your lips. He doesnt stop.

"Gabriel, I'm not mad at you for that."

The angel finally tears his gaze away to look opposite you, feeling more confused than he has in a hot minute. "You're not?"

"No, you giant, winged dumbass." You nearly roll your eyes. "I'm not mad at you because you kissed a shifter that looked like me. If anything, that's understandable. Weirder shit has happened to me, trust.” You pause to crack the smallest of smiles. “I’m assuming Sam and Dean didn't tell you about the time a demon kissed Sam while wearing me?” You direct your question at him, and nod firmly when he shakes his head no.

“See, I can handle shit like that. The difference between back then, and now, is that me and Sam actually talked after exercising that bitch. You just took your unbelievably big ego and flew away that night like a dickhead.”

Anger hadn’t come immediately with his departure, you knew that. Sitting on that street curb, the most you had felt faint disappointment blanketed with a weird sense of not knowing what to do. Really you hadn’t been able to focus on it for more than a minute before Sam and Dean were dragging you and your blood soaked outfit off to the motel to peel out of there. But in the week it had taken him to show up again, you had time to think. Time to go over every detail you could pull from that afternoon, and time to grow increasingly pissed off with the angel for how he left. No matter how many hot feelings the thought of your lips kissing him stirred up.

“I'm mad because you didn't stay to fucking talk, Gabriel, not because you did something I would have without a second thought. Owning up to your shit means a lot to me, and that is the one, glaring thing that you missed that night." You tell him point blank.

In the silence that follows, you debate sitting next to him on the bed for a moment before giving in, planting yourself a good few feet away from him as he tracks you with his eyes.

Gabriel looks like he has absolutely no idea what to say. He sits there, replaying your entire conversation with him in his head as if that would somehow make it make more sense. You give him time, and as you do, you inexplicably feel the last of your anger begin to evaporate.

”Wait— something you would have done without a second thought?” His eyes slowly make their way around the perimeter of the room before landing on you.

"Fucking angels and their social skills." You rub your temples with closed eyes, a bit or irritation seeping into your tone. "And I thought you were better at this communicating stuff than your little brother."

Gabriel ignores the obvious poke at his ego via Cas in favor of holding his hand out as if to signal a time out.

”Correct me if I’m wrong, but you just said you would have kissed me if given the chance.”

”That is not the point I was trying to make.”

“But one that you still made.” He points a finger at you. You don’t redden, but you feel your face become hot once more. More so out of awkwardness than anything.

“This is not how I wanted a talk between us to go.” You muttered. Gabriel tried not to show how excited he had become again over the past few seconds, stomping it down to give you a minute.

“Well, how would you have wanted it to go?” He settles on asking. You look at him like he’s making a joke, and not a very good one.

“Not in my pajamas after basically admitting to you I would have liked to be on the receiving end of that necking.”

“Humor me then.” He tilts his head. You take a moment to deduce if he’s being serious or not. When you can’t find any hint of a joke or lie, you start.

“I would have liked to talk, mostly. Figure out how you got in that position, and then ask why you stayed. And if things went well enough and the boys were still out of earshot, maybe ask if you’d like to go hunting with me again.”

”That would have been..” He hesitates. “..nicer than what actually happened.”

”That being said—“ You hold up a hand. “—that would not have been a light offer.” You tell him. “I’m not exactly the best guy to get with, Gabe. The last person who I tried to go out with ended up with black eyes, and not because they got beat up. Why do you think I talked about suggesting a hunt instead of Olive Garden?”

”You think being with an angel is any easier?” He uses his signature move, cocking a brow at you.

“That wasn't and invitation to start a dick measuring contest.” You remind both him and yourself. “All I meant by it was that this is a bigger decision than we both probably think. For one, Dean’s going to deep fry you in holy fire when he finds out any of what happened last week, and I don't even know if it's allowed for a human to go out with an angel.”

”Sweets, you basically just put a date with you on the table. Who cares if it’s allowed, I’ll make it allowed.” He offers that up like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t just offer to change the rules to heaven at a chance to sit down and watch a movie with you. “As for our very own Dean? Don’t worry, I can handle him. Father knows I’ve done it before, no sweat.”

“That’s good.” You muse with a playful look. “Especially considering he sent me a text a few minutes ago about the angel trap he’s setting up outside my door for you.”

Gabriel let out a hearty laugh no sooner than when you finished your sentence. Something about the visual of Dean hunched over outside your door with a jug of holy oil in hand was more amusing than he’d like to admit.

You smile while he laughs, unable to help yourself. Any remnants of your sour mood from this past week is old news by now. ”Hey, apparently you ruined his breakfast. In the Winchester household, that's a criminal offense.”

“Good thing I’ve got a badass hunter on my side.” He peers at you from under his lashes, still laughing.

“Not just yet, casanova. Take me to dinner first, then we’ll talk.” You halt him, closing your eyes and scrunching your nose with a laugh in a way that made Gabriel want to replicate that night with the shapeshifter; only this time with the real deal.

“That’s the plan.” He says with a cocky grin, and snaps his fingers. You don't need to know anything about angels to know he’s gone, the flutter of wings echoing in your head.

You're not disappointed by his disappearing act this time.

No less than a minute later, when you’re standing up once more to stretch your sore muscles, you hear a faint yell from outside your door, followed by familiar laughter. The sound reminds you of sunshine, and everything sweet.

You smile.

[tasteracha]

kinktober - day ten

kink: voyeurism with jeongin

warnings: smut - MINORS DNI. jeongin is a bit of a creep. slight sub!innie. afab!reader.

jeongin was an amazing roommate. he was a perfect roommate, by all means. he cooked and cleaned up after himself, he never walked past the foyer with his shoes on, he left little notes for you all over the place with badly drawn foxes on them. he watched your favorite shows and cuddled you when you were sad, even though he claims that he doesn’t like skinship. 

he never does anything to make you uncomfortable, easing your worries about living with a guy. he respects your boundaries, and apologizes immediately if he ever breaks them accidentally. the only problem you could think of was your insurmountable crush on him that would never amount to anything, but you were doing your best to get over it. despite never bringing anyone else home, he never showed any interest in you. 

or, so you thought. 

you had found it a little weird to masturbate when you had first moved in together; you had never had a roommate before, so you didn’t really know the social cues around this kind of thing. as long as he didn’t know, it wouldn’t be a problem right?

you had started doing it only when he wasn’t home, and while you weren’t addicted to orgasms once every couple weeks wasn’t enough sometimes. you’d wait until he went to sleep, but he had the annoying habit of needing to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and you were always scared when you heard his footsteps outside of your room as he was stumbling to your shared bathroom across the hall. eventually, you got comfortable enough that you just did it whenever you pleased, knowing that if he caught you the only thing that would happen was a teasing remark here and there about it. 

sometimes his footsteps would pause right outside your door, like he was checking to see if he had accidentally woken you up. you thought it was kind of sweet, at first. but he would linger, to the point where you thought that he could have been sleep-walking. you would pause with your dildo halfway inside of you or frantically turn off your vibrator and wait with paused breath until he walked away, and you would sigh into your pillow. it felt wrong to continue, but the fight between your embarrassment and a potential orgasm usually ended up with the latter as the winner. 

you think you knew what he was doing far earlier than now, but some sick part of your mind liked it too much to fully identify it. he was listening to you, he probably had his ear pressed up to the door to hear the way your breath would catch when you twisted your dildo just right or the whines you couldn’t hold back when you finally came. 

you suppose your lack of confrontation made him a bit bolder, because his steps started getting a little louder and you began seeing the shadow of his feet under your door. 

you waited, day after day, for him to slip up so that you could finally catch him in the act, wanting to reveal him with his hands painted red. the opportunity came on an otherwise unassuming day, with you lying on your back with your hands between your naked legs and your shirt bunched up under your neck - his phone pinged. a loud, lingering bell-like sound that seemed to echo through your room. you hear him curse under his breath and move to do what you hope is turning off the sound of his notifications. he doesn’t move, both of your breaths are held as you wait for something, but he lets his out earlier and remains at the door. 

you slide off the bed, leaving your dildo on the sheets that you’d definitely need to wash after this and padding to your door on socked feet. you’re quiet, your steps not making a sound as you creep your hand to the door and wrench it open to reveal jeongin almost leaning up into the space the door just was in. his adam’s apple bobs as he gulps, his eyes walking down to your bare legs and the hem of your t-shirt just covering your dripping pussy. 

he shifts on his legs, eyes widening a bit as the shock of being caught settles in. 

“i-” he starts, his words getting stuck in his throat. what would he even have to say about this? how could he possibly explain this violation of privacy, even if you weren’t nearly as bothered by it as you should be?

“what are you doing?” you ask, knowing exactly what he was up to but wanting to hear him say it himself. 

“i was,” he clears his throat, a red flush making its way up his neck. “sleepwalking?”

“hmm, i don’t think so,” you wave your hand towards him, gesturing to the way he was clearly very aware of his surroundings. “do you know what i think? i think you were being a creepy, disgusting man and listening to me while i masturbated. and not for the first time.”

“shit,” he squeezes his eyes shut, tight like he was trying to cut his vision of you off permanently. the two of you sit in excruciatingly silence for a moment, him opening and closing his mouth a few times, scrambling to find something to say. “i’m so sorry-“

“do you want to watch?” you ask, cutting off his useless apology, the words leaving your mouth before you can think about what you’re offering. “i didn’t finish.”

“what?” he asks, the disbelievement overriding the panic on his face. “you just found out that i’ve been a creep and you’re offering me to do that?”

“i’m going to come with or without you,” you eye his crotch, his cock tenting up in his sweatpants, and you can almost see the timer in his head run out before he brushes past you into your room. “and give me some credit; i’ve known about you for weeks. you’re not as sly as you think you are.”

he ignores you in favor of crashing into your desk chair, a place he’s sat in several times before but never for this. you crawl back onto the bad, resuming the position you were in before. you keep your shirt further down this time though, covering you until your lower belly. 

you felt so exposed like this, despite him having heard you do this before it was different having him see it, witness you sliding your dildo into your hole right in front of him. the fit feels tighter, the give is harder as you fit it inside of you - was it nervousness? you’ve never had trouble with this particular toy before. 

when it bottoms out he whines, his hand moving to his crotch before moving away, like he was looking for some kind of permission. cute, you think, now he’s looking for approval. 

“you can touch yourself,” you say, words catching on your own pleasure as you begin to pump the dildo in and out of you, faster with each thrust. there’s a wet patch shining through his sweatpants now, and you feel a little bit of pity for him. “take your cock out and show me how hard i make you.”

you don’t know where these words are coming from, you’ve never been this bold in your life, always relying on partners to bring dirty talk to the table, but he had this way of bringing out sides of you that you never thought were possible. 

“fuck,” he takes his cock out, stroking it a couple times before rubbing his thumb over his slit to collect the moisture there. “i can’t believe i’m doing this, feels like a dream.”

“try harder,” you groan out, throwing your head back when you twist your wrist just right. 

“think about you all the time,” he says, almost babbling, his eyes never leaving your pussy as he strokes himself faster. “want to do so many things to you, can’t get you out of my head.”

“tell me,” you breathe out, the idea of him thinking about you making your head spin in circles. 

“do you know how fucking hot you are, walking around without a bra all the time?” he sighs, his hand not losing pace on his cock. “i want to squeeze your tits, whenever i want. when i walk past you, when we’re sitting on the couch together, when you’re asleep next to me, fuck.”

you want to say do it, i want you to, it’s all i want, but he keeps going. 

“when you wear those short, the tiny ones,” his eyes stray to your thighs, the soft, unmarked skin there. “want to pull you down into my lap, leave bruises on your legs that last for days.” 

“keep going,” you all but beg, his words hitting you like a tidal wave, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. you’ve lost control of the situation but you don’t really care. “please.”

“when- when you’re in the shower, and you make those noises,” he’s visibly affected by how close you are, by the way you throw your head back when you move your free hand to rub at your clit. “wanna get in there with you, want to hear you moan and whine and press you up against the shower wall-”

you cut him off with a gasped out fuck as you finally come, wrenching the dildo out as your hips buck up. you keep your fingers circling your clit as you ride it out, but you keep your eyes on him so you can see him come except -

he doesn’t. his hand is off of his dick and he’s clenching the armrests of the chair like he would pass out if he wasn’t. you fix him with a look when you come down from your high, confused and a little offended. 

“i didn’t want to-“ he starts, looking away with a flush to his cheeks. “i didn’t know if i was allowed.”

“oh, honey,” you melt, emotions bubbling up in your chest. he’s so cute. “of course you’re allowed. but wouldn’t you rather fuck me instead of your hand?”

--

kinktober masterlist

[mrsparrasblog]

You're losing me pt.2

pt. 1 pt.3

TW: mention of rape, unprotected sex, drinking, blood, violence, angst

The liquor on his tongue didn’t even burn anymore; too much was already in his system, trying to wash down the events of this day. You were the love of his life, the woman he wanted to marry, even though he didn’t know how it would be legal for you to marry all of them. And now, he lost you. The worst part? He can't even remember how it happened. He felt so disgusted in himself in so many ways—disgusted for breaking your heart. God, your look, how you tried to keep your tears in check, broke him. And then his whole body felt disgusted; it felt like a layer of dirt he couldn’t wash away. He scrubbed and scrubbed, but it didn’t go away; the shame still lingered. It felt like someone had taken something from him, but it was his own fault. He must have said yes and bought those drinks. It was his own fault, he told himself over and over again. Normally, he would talk about this kind of stuff with you; you always knew what to say. But you hated him.

"‚‘nother on’," he said to the barkeeper. This was probably his sixth. Johnny knew how he could handle alcohol; he was never that pissed before to not remember a thing. And there she was, the medic, sitting down next to him.

"Hey, Johnny," she smiled brightly, like she didn’t have any worry in her life.

"I ken a dinnae whit yesterday happened bit tis ne'er aff tae happen again."

"Come on, you enjoyed it yesterday."

"I dinnae remember yesterday."

"What a shame."

He stood up, throwing some pounds on the table, wanting to leave, but she stopped him. "Come on, Johnny. I'll help you forget, make you feel at peace again."

"No."

"Then please, let me invite you for a drink as an apology," she smiled sweetly, pushing the drink towards me. Wait, how had she a drink prepared if she sat only for a minute next to me?

"No."

"Please, a drink won't kill you."

"I said no."

"Just one sip, Johnny, and I'll make you feel good how she never could."

"How come ye're sae persistent fur me tae dram this drink?"

"You're silly, Johnny. I'm just being nice," she looked panicked - weird.

While many people thought of him as someone who is just a silly guy who isn’t able to think properly, you told him all over again that he was so smart, smarter than all of them, if someone would just give him the chance to show. And right now, his brain implanted a sick thought on him. "Dinnae tell me ye put something in mah drink."

Her eyes widened. "Of course not," she mumbled.

"Don't lie to me," his hand immediately went to her throat , choking the truth out of her.

"Knockout drugs," she whispered. She was fighting for air as I let her go; the men in the pub already stood up trying to save the poor woman from getting abused by a man.

"You raped me." His shock hit deep; he always thought something like that wouldn’t happen to him. He was strong and able to protect himself. He was the guy who killed people, the youngest man in the SAS, the guy who beat up an officer because he touched a civi. But now, he was the victim.

"Have fun proving it. No one will believe that a tiny girl like me raped the big bad soldier," she laughed, and screamed for help. "Help, this man doesn’t take no for an answer," He was kicked out of the pub; his face was bloody from all the beating.

All he wanted was to reach you, ask your advice, be in the comfort of your arms, telling him all over again how he is a good man, how he is worth everything and not a dirty soldier. But you didn’t pick up; he came to the realization quickly; that no one would believe him.

**Soap:** Please tell me we used a condom.

**Medic:** ;)

Fuck.

————————————————————————————————-

4 am and you still couldn’t sleep; your head was full of thoughts. Why were you not good enough? Why did he do it? So, you made a thing your friends would kill you for. Calling John, you weren’t sure if he would pick up, but he did.

"What's wrong, love?" Source of habit, he thought.

"Why did you do this, John?" you sobbed.

"I didn't mean for it to happen; it was an accident."

"Then why didn't you say sorry?"

"Love."

"Don't fucking call me love. You cheated on me, and you didn't say sorry. You didn't run after me, you didn't apologize," your sobs broke his heart.

"I'm sorry; it was an accident."

"An accident is making a typo, not sticking your dick in a whore."

"I—"

"I hate you, John. I hate you so much," and you hung up. This wasn’t what you expected. Why doesn’t he feel guilty? Why are you not good enough? Why didn’t Simon say something? Why didn’t Kyle come here? Of course, you broke up, but why don’t they care?

If you only knew how Kyle was, blood-covered in the hospital, too many rookies in his way. How Simon was trying desperately to find Soap to see he didn't drink himself to death, and then he would come to you, he told him self all over again. And how the captain didn't leave his office, not even for food.

And how Soap went into John's office, trying to explain to him the truth, only to see a disarranged office, hands covered in blood after he tried to pick up the liquor he smashed at his wall. He never saw his captain so vulnerable, and if Soap didn’t know better, he would have sworn he saw tears.

"Captain, I—"

"You did already enough, MacTavish. Let me have at least one day to mourn over the loss of the love of my fucking life."

"Captain—"

"LEAVE," and he did, he crawled into his bed, knowing he lost everything in a day, the love of his life, his best friend Kyle, his captain, his pride, and safety, and not even Ghost was there.

[pupwashing]

dad!jimmy x daughter!reader

tags: this work contains incest, noncon, and choking!!! beware!!!!

a/n: as promised.. dad jimmy :3 im gonna get to work on the other two requests I received and those should be posted sometime soon.. keep your eyes peeled!! hope those who wanted dad jimmy enjoy..

dad jimmy. he’s barely a father, more like an overseer of your life.

he isn’t the most affectionate, nor is he interested in what your ambitions are, but he’s most certainly there.

even though he’s shitty, you can’t bring yourself to hate him. he’s still your dad.

you never knew your mom, and jimmy would rather not talk about her. he always gets apprehensive if you try to ask, so you stopped when you were a child.

jimmy has weird habits. he stays up late, later than any person should stay up. you swear you’ve never seen him asleep.

his state of always being awake makes you uneasy. you’ve been hearing noises late at night, like your door knob rattling.

when you bring it up to jimmy, he brushes you off. he insists you need to relax, that no one’s out to get you. it’s just the late night paranoia.

it’s sound reasoning until you wake up with him on top of you.

one hand grasping your neck, the other aiding him and getting his pants off.

he doesn’t realize you’re awake until you try to kick him, and he catches your ankle before it can hit him.

“relax, kid. it’s not gonna hurt you.” he grunts, moving to take off your panties. it’s not surprising to him that you sleep in so little; your mommy’s a whore. that’s how you came to be.

it’s sickening to jimmy, to see you flaunt your pussy like a wild animal. didn’t he raise you better than this?

he felt his stomach twist when he realizes your pretty cunt is already shaven. were you trying to impress someone?

his hand around your neck squeezes tightly as he stares down at you.

“who’s this for, kid? you planning on meeting a guy?” he asks, gritting his teeth.

you gasp, much smaller hand wrapping around his wrist.

“no, dad. i’m not meeting anyone.” you choke out, eyes wide with fear. he wouldn’t kill you, would he?

his grip on your neck loosens, and he nudges his cockhead against your hole.

you aren’t that wet, so a glob of spit will do the job. he’s sure you’ve taken worse than him.

you plea and cry out, but he ignores it all. in fact, you see his cock twitch as you struggle.

you aren’t strong enough to get him off of you (obviously), so he proceeds with sheathing inside you.

you scream, and he clamps his hand over your mouth. at least it’s not around your neck anymore.

“shut up.” he commands, not giving you any time to adjust before he begins to pump his hips.

his dick isn’t huge by any means, but it’s enough for it to hurt when he moves. all of your cries are just fuel for him to keep going.

for someone who’s acting like they don’t like it, your pussy squeezing him awfully tight. your gummy walls accept him, even if your mind does not.

jimmy’s eerily quiet as he fucks you. he doesn’t grunt, he doesn’t groan. he only breathes, and it’s hard to believe this is your father doing this to you.

each snap of his hips brings you closer to the edge instead of your peak. as his dick violates your guts, you look up, seeing your father’s face.

it’s the last thing you see before your vision goes black. you pass out right before he cums.

when you come to, the dull throb between your legs reminds you of what occurred before you lost consciousness.

you look down at your tummy, noticing the dried cum. he hadn’t even tried to clean up the evidence of his assault on you.

you decide against getting up, and instead lay on your bed in silence.

you don’t even have the energy to cry.

you hope jimmy got what he wanted out of you.

[seaheaded]

it was a late summer bliss

jacaerys x gn reader

summary: it's too early, and the guy in your bed is still asleep. you can't stop thinking about the way he made you feel, and he wants you.

1.9K

warnings: no physical descriptions or pronouns used for reader, modern au, short descriptions of sexual intimacy.

notes: a short thing i wrote before going to bed. the title comes from the song "fingertips" by onerepublic

The light was grey, too grey for a summer morning. But, you supposed, since the season was ending, the unsteady and constant shift between golden and grey mornings was not out of place.

You blinked, letting your eyes adjust to that long stripe, painting the bare skin of his back with the sign of a new day. It illuminated a mole right below a loose, brown curl that rested over his shoulder, and you had a weird impulse, one which you contained yourself from acting on, but that felt natural and pleasant when you thought of it.

He took a deep breath in his sleep, and you raised your eyes to the back of his head, waiting to see what would happen for a long moment. When nothing did, you sighed and turned around, squinting at the small clock on the nightstand.

It was six.

Too early for a sunday morning, especially in the summer. Especially with someone in your bed.

You took a deep breath, stretching your arms and arching your back, as some of your sleep left you. Then, with one forearm falling over your closed eyes, you felt… Silly.

Something was off. In a good way.

Jacaerys Targaryen had not been the first person to conquer your attention, to bring his lips close to yours and take your breath away with his touch and words, but you knew he had sparked something that other people had not managed to.

You could still feel it, of course. His fingers intertwined with yours, before he let one of your hands go to hold your face and slow the kiss you shared by the door of your tiny studio. That alone was new, since people tended to enjoy it when you changed the pace to show more of your passion. Perhaps, you thought as your eyes did not grow any heavier under your arm, this was how he showed his.

And you enjoyed it.

But then, how could you explain the way that, in comparison to his lewdness, he did not seem to hold back later when you pulled him closer with your legs around his hips, and his mouth opened, warming the skin of your face with sweet but deep sounds?

To name is an unstoppable human habit, and you knew that the more you thought back to the previous hours, the habit would wake your body. In fact, by the time you were done concluding that, you had to drop the arm and peek at him again.

The memory of the contrasting feeling of the silver, cool pendant, his hot breath and skin against yours came back. He was pretty, unchaste, and moved like the waves – overwhelming and relentless, but so sublime to give into that you let yourself be drowned.

He was confident, you decided, then asked yourself what the hell you were doing.

Carefully, you made your way out of the double bed, standing and looking around.

It was colder than the other days of that summer, but thankfully not enough to find pants in the closet, so you stood there, in a large t-shirt, feeling like a fool.

What now?

By investigating your own apartment, your eyes fell upon the mess on your desk. The closed laptop, books, and open notebook judging you for leaving them for the past three days that you had promised to catch up on some work you wanted to study before the year started.

The room was still too dark, morning lingering too much to the night to be disturbed by the motions of spontaneousness, but you could not sleep, and staring at that man’s back would not lure you back to the land of dreams. Not the usual ones, at least.

In two minutes, you adjusted yourself well to take notes by finding your large headphones inside the bag you had taken out last night and turning the laptop on. Then, you stretched your arm in a motion you were used to, reaching for the ceramic cup you used to store pens and pencils, and picking a pen with two fingers.

When you pressed play on the video you were currently watching — a play — , you gazed at the bed.

He was still asleep. Good.

The minutes started to pass, and your hand moved, writing down notes that you knew were sloppy.

Crucial for understanding the perseverance of human nature, like desires that constantly collide with fear.

There is tragedy in ambition. It would not be captivating without hope.

You snorted. Those were thoughts that had been in your mind and many others for a long time, not needing epiphanies. They simply found their way out as you projected them onto what you watched and listened to. But, then again, was that not what you meant by the perseverance of human nature? That was yours. You wrote that down, too.

What gave Jacaerys away was the movement you caught in the corner of your eye.

It startled you, but not enough to snap your head in his direction. You turned it ever so slightly, watching as he rose to a sitting position. By then, the stripe of light was bright enough to make him visible. His skin was smooth, adorned by moles, his pentant hanged by his chest.

He was looking around with aimless attention, clearly still disoriented from sleep, but when his eyes set on you, he blinked them, suddenly sober with consciousness.

Oh. Oh, that's it.

As someone so absorbed by words, the cliche saying that the eyes are the windows of the soul had escaped you until that moment. But you understood it then. His were not only beautiful, a shade that seemed almost golden, but heavily charged with emotion, of which you could not decipher yet.

The worst part was that it made you feel warm all over as if you were under him again.

You turned back to your notebook.

Tthere was nothing to write.

The play kept playing, but you knew the words from having seen it so many times, and all this useless studying, paired with him watching you, made you lost. Completely lost. Shit.

You paused the play with a sigh through your nose and removed your headphones.

“Are you studying?”

His voice was hoarse but it was, like the rest of him, accompanied by warmth.

“Yeah,” You answered quietly, daring to look back.

He was resting against the headboard, with his legs crossed under the duvet, and his hands played with the fabric pulled over them. As tired as he looked, it did not mask the smirk on his face. Except, it was not mischievous, but shy.

You could not help but share the sentiment as your eyes met again, and a shy smile graced your lips too.

He nodded, looking around the bed, and picked your throw blanket. To your surprise, he tossed it over his shoulders, holding it together with one hand as he got up and came closer.

When his free hand rested against the back of your chair, you were already looking away.

Jacaerys lowered his head, almost resting his chin over your shoulder, and started to read your notes.

When you motioned to close the notebook, his hand that previously held the throw blanket stopped yours. He held it, with a small, barely audible don’t.

“Is this about… Shakespeare?”

You nodded.

He changed his position then, letting his head back enough to look at you.

“Am I bothering you?” His voice was still quiet as if you two were not alone, but you appreciated it. It did not break the ease of the morning.

You frowned at him, shaking your head, and noticed the way his eyes fell to your lips momentarily.

“You're shy, then,” He smirked again, but this time he seemed too pleased.

You turned back to the laptop, pressing play.

He was right, but you did not like that he knew it.

“I’m not.”

“What was that?” His voice reached the perfect spot below your earlobe, and it felt like a kiss.

“I’m not shy.”

He hummed but did not say anything else. Instead, his hand left yours and rested on the desk, once again letting his head fall closer to yours. Usually, this would make you feel caged in place, but it seemed like he was just making himself comfortable in the space you provided him, which was not much.

For a few minutes, no words were exchanged, but your mind was the opposite of silent. He was there, over you, around you, and you did not mind. In fact, the weight of his presence, and the attention he paid to what you were watching made you want to kiss him again, pull his voice from his mouth in its most precious form — the sounds he had made earlier.

Oddly enough, the lustful fog was swept away by him.

“I didn't know you studied that.”

“Hm?” You questioned, looking at him.

His eyes were set on the computer, reading the subtitles. “When I saw you around campus, I had no idea what you studied.”

Right. He had mentioned last night that he had seen you before, only once in the entire year before that, even though both of you attended the same place.

“So… you have to watch plays?” He asked next.

“And read.”

“Interesting.”

You bit back a giggle. He made it sound completely foreign to do such a thing. Obviously a way to make conversation.

“Are you even comfortable like… this?” You asked, gesturing to his position.

“I would be more comfortable back where we were, but…” He paused when you raised your eyebrows, smirk dropping. “That's not what I meant.”

“I’m sure you didn't.”

“Oh, not so shy now,” He said, catching the sarcasm in your tone.

“Should I go back to that?”

He paused, then brought his hand to your face, smoothing one of your eyebrows as he shook his head.

“Just be you,” He whispered. “I would like to see more of that.”

It was ridiculous, really, how he kissed the way he talked, changing the pace and making you want more of whatever he gave you.

And you could tell that he was not used to saying that. It was so quiet. When it was your turn to be confident, it was his to let you savour that vulnerability.

So you did.

You took him, and let him tilt his head, catch your tongue and then tilt it to the other side. Only when he hummed against the kiss, quickening the pace, you slowed it down, making his breath shake.

You separated with a loud, wet sound, and his lips were already becoming red. You brought your hand to his chin, caressing it with your thumb, and he looked down with feigned anger.

“You're making it hard to talk, you know?” He said, but the expression cracked into a soft smile when you laughed. “Don't do that.”

“Laugh?”

“The other thing.”

“Kiss you?”

“Yeah.”

“I won’t, then.”

“Actually, don't say that. I take it back. I want to kiss you again.”

“Well, make a choice, man.” You said between breathy laughter, moving your hand to hold the back of his neck and play with his hair.

He rested his forehead against yours. “I want to just be me too, for a little longer. Maybe even after that.”

You nodded.

“Don’t worry,” You kissed the corner of his mouth, making him close his eyes. “It's only the morning yet.”